#but all these jerks see is some 5 grader talking to them and so they kinda push him aside

[tcsauaskblog]

13 Donald

#13 Who did this?

Gladstone decides wholeheartedly he’s in the wrong place at the wrong time the second Donald’s eyes lock on him and the only thought he has to show for it is a dispirited, ’Seriously, he needs to get a new hobby.’

Because Don crosses the school courtyard between them like it was nothing, Gladstone barely having time to blink before his cousin’s hands are holding his jawline in place, turning his head every which way and that to get a better look at the freshly purpled bruise now blossoming across his right eye and cheek.

“What happened?” Don growls, low and mean, but Gladstone barely even winces at his temper, because for all of Donald’s bark, there was true hurt and anger in his eyes. The kind that came entirely from a caring place, rooted every last inch in stupid protective love.

And Gladstone hated being the reason behind that pained expression etched across Donald’s face. It was making something hot and heavy swell in the back of Gladstone’s throat, a raw sort of compassion that Glad doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to receiving.

The kind of stubborn concern he had every intention of avoiding if Donald hadn’t been waiting for him by the flagpole long after the final school bell had rung like some kind of vigilant guard dog.

“Don’t get your flannel all worked up, it’s not as bad as it looks,” Gladstone lied because that was always easier when it came to Don’s mother-henning. He tried to swat his cousin’s hands away, but Don had an impossible iron barred grip on his chin, destroying any possible chance of escape Gladstone had, so he resorted to tapping his cousin’s arms absentmindedly while looking just about everywhere other than meeting the 14-year-old’s piercing gaze. “Where’s Dumb and Dumber? Thought y'all’d be halfway through a bag of bacon catching crawdads by now.”

“Apparently a group of squirrels got into Fethry’s lunch bag during recess and ate most of the crawdad bait, so Del and him went home to get some more and I stayed behind to let you know so you wouldn’t head down to the river by yourself and wonder where we were,” Don said all in one, short, tense breath.

Like he couldn’t be bothered to spend any more concentration on breathing as he glared down at Glad’s face, inspecting it like there was something hidden tattoed in the bruises. Gladstone ignores the flush feeling rising in his cheeks. Normally he’d be on cloud nine to have so much attention squarely focused on him.

But with Donald looking at him with all the whole world of worry that he didn’t know where to place, it was just making him sick.

“Awww, that’s really gross that you care so much,” Glad cooed in an annoyed tone, rocking back on his heels softy and doing his best not to let the action choke himself with Don’s current unwavering headlock.

“Well, thanks for letting me know. Better not keep them waiting, I bet Del the first one to catch three mudbugs gets shower privileges all week, and if you don’t think I’d sail you down the river in a New York heartbeat to win then you’re dead wrong. I always look good, but even I can admit that these curls take some time to maintain.”

And Gladstone would have used that as an excuse to wiggle himself free and stroll right around Donald, going on their merry way and ignoring the giant target bruising itself across Glad’s face. But of course, Donald’s grip on his jaw was ironclad, never wavering for a second, and there was a look on his eyes so fierce and fervid it was burning holes into Gladstone’s chest.

“Oh no, you don’t! Do even think about changing the subject,” Donald says sharply, concern and annoyance pouring into every word equally like a threaded braid and with a tone he was whole years too young to have. Taking on a persona like a frustrated guardian of at least ten years older than Gladstone, rather than an overly defensive cousin who was only a year older. “What happened?”

To be fair to Gladstone, the last thing he wanted was to fight Don. That’s why Gladstone had waited almost 30 minutes after the final bell had rung before leaving the bathroom.

Because he was hoping to miss his cousins altogether. Hoping that they would head to the river without him and he’d have some time to put some distance between the school and him so that, either way, even if Don did want to fight him about this, there was nothing he could have done.

And really, why should Don do anything?

Gladstone’s 13 and Donald’s 14 and honestly, even that shouldn’t be any reason for Donald to act like he’s suddenly Gladstone’s parent. They’re the same height for Pete’s sake! Gladstone can do anything Donald can do and there’s never a reason for Donald to treat him like some brat who can’t take care of himself, and yet here he is, acting like Gladstone’s bodyguard and it makes him want to scream in frustration.

“Relax, stupid, it was just P.E accident. I got hit in the face with a stray volleyball during one of the free games. I’m lucky I didn’t get a bloody beak.” He passive-aggressively shrugged, waving a dismissive hand away shamelessly. Hoping that was enough of an answer to skeet by. “Now will you let go already? Take a picture, it’ll last longer, but my face isn’t going to look any prettier no matter how hard you scowl.”

The pointless jab only made him scowl harder, but Donald eased his grip regardless. “You? The luckiest duck in the world. A P.E accident?” Donald says slowly, like the wheels are spinning in his head but there’s ice on the road so he can’t get enough traction to go anywhere. He let’s go of Gladstone reluctantly, but Don keeps his hands out in front of him, like he’s afraid Gladstone might bolt if he doesn’t keep his guard up and ready to grab him at any moment.

Gladstone has half a mind too, but instead, he just huffs impatiently and straitens out the collar of his shirt and readjusts his backpack on his shoulders.

“Hey, I’m not any happier about it than you, but I guess even I can get faulty luck sometimes. What can I say, it happens to the best of us.” And Gladstone’s carefully not meetings Donald’s eyes again, because he knows that even the slightest hesitance will give something away, and knowing Donald, the last thing he needs is to give his cousin some sort of stupid incentive to go charging off on his behalf to a battle he doesn’t want him to fight.

Honestly, after that day he’s had, all Gladstone wants is to head home. “That’s why I didn’t meet you guys by the lockers after school, I was in the nurses’ office getting checked out. Looks like it isn’t too bad though, no bleeding under the skin or anything, so we’re all good to hit the road.”

And he shoots Don an easy smile like it was his day job, and wishes with all his luck that it’s compelling enough to make Don drop the subject altogether when he passes around him easily, tapping him on the shoulder comfortably with all the confidence and smugness of someone who doesn’t have anything to hide.

It should have been easy. He’s hid all the bruises up until now without any suspicion. He isn’t about to let one little black eye blow his best-kept secret in one day.

Gladstone rests his hands behind his head and waits till he reaches the school gates before asking, “Hey, do you think if I do a convincing enough puppy dog pout, I can get Feth on my side to help me win the bet against Del? She really takes too long of showers in the morning and I think it’s time her reign of terror over the bathroom is over.”

He’s hoping for a laugh. Or at the very least a snide remark, but it’s only when he gets no response from Donald that he checks over his shoulder, to find that his cousin isn’t right behind him, but still at the other end of the courtyard, staring at him with a furrowed brow that made storm clouds look tame.

And then, before Gladstone could rightly ask him what he was waiting for, Donald dropped his backpack with a resounding thud that wholely echoed through Gladstone’s core, before marching back towards the entrance of the school with a conviction that would take a tank to tear down.

Gladstone feels like he swallowed ice as he watches Don’s back all for a mere 4 seconds before bolting after him, scooping Donald’s backpack up in the process, and just managing to reach the front door of the school right after it had slammed shut behind his hot heeled cousin.

“Do-ouufff-Don! Wait!” Gladstone calls, just barely managing to catch up with Donald as he rounded the first hallway. “What are you- where are you going?”

“Where are they?” Donald growls through clenched teeth, not meeting Gladstone’s eyes but slowing his tempo just a bit so that Gladstone could keep up easier.

It was a good thing he did, because at his cousin’s words, Gladstone almost tripped over himself, and Donald barely managed to catch him by his upper arm and help pull him back up to his feet. This stopped them fully, which gave Gladstone a chance to catch the breath Donald just stolen from him.

“They? They who?” Gladstone asked slowly, trying not to let the panic in his voice show as he anchored Donald’s backpack to his chest to steady his breathing. “What are you talking about?”

“Shut up Gladstone, you know exactly what I’m talking about,” Donald snapped, pointing a finger at Gladstone’s swelling black eye. And Gladstone did his best not to back into the lockers behind him in surprise. “The people who did that to you.”

And Gladstone felt his whole body go frigid. Because shit. Shit! This is exactly what he didn’t want to happen.

“W-wait Don. You have it wrong, this was an accident, remem-?” Gladstone tried to reassure, but it must have been evident in the panic in his voice because Donald was already rounding him with those electric eyes sparking sharp and bright.

“Bullshit Glad, don’t lie to me! I’m not stupid! I know how your luck works.” He barked, and he was getting that kind of mad that turned his fists taut with how tight he was folding them.

Fethry once disclosed to Gladstone a forgotten amount of years ago, that he was always afraid when Donald made his hands go that tight, because it usually meant that he was about to hit something really, really hard. And that whenever Donald did that, his fists always came back bruised and bloodied red.

It was the reason why Fethry usually held Don’s hands whenever it looked like he was about to get mad at something petty or about to get into a fight. It was a defense mechanism, one only a 10-year-old Fethry, with all the love and admiration and whole bleeding affection for his only family, could come up with, and it worked.

Don couldn���t rightly hurt himself, if he was already holding onto and protecting something else.

“Accidents don’t just happen to you. You don’t just get hurt.”

Something about his words brought something mean and biting clawing to the front of Gladstone’s heart, and he frowned as he took a step forward towards his cousin. That spitfire fight that Donald always seemed to bring out in him coming back to life. “Oh please, Don. I’m lucky, not invincible. I get hurt all the time! Just last week I got hit in the head by that apple!”

Donald rolled his eyes hard enough to hurt something. “Yeah, exactly! Because I threw it at you! It wasn’t an accident!”

“Yeah? And? What’s your point? I still got hurt!” Gladstone argued, squeezing Donald’s backpack tighter, like it was the only lifeline he had at the moment. Because really, what was his cousin’s point? What was the point to any of this? “Honestly, I don’t get why you’re so mad right now. It’s not a big deal, I’m fine, ok? It’s just a black eye-”

“STOP TRYING TO PUSH ME AWAY, YOU PRICK!”

Gladstone will never know why the hallways were so empty and quiet that sunny afternoon, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s grateful that no one was around to see the expression his cousin was making.

Painful. That’s really the only way Gladstone could describe it. Like something was breaking and tearing Donald from the inside out, and he was staring at Gladstone with a burning fury because love looked like that sometimes.

And Gladstone’s hit with a sudden wave of nausea, because for all the sneaking around and hiding the bruises and scars was supposed to keep his family away and protect them, it just ended up hurting them in a way he never meant it to.

“You’re not fi- don’t pretend to be-,” Donald chokes, and he isn’t crying, but his eyes are shiny and he rubs at them aggressively with the back of his palm anyway and takes a shaky breath. “Your luck only protects you from things it has control over. Supernatural or otherwise, be it weather, or traffic or even sports, your luck has always pulled through, with you being on top.”

And then those tight fists are on Gladstone’s shoulders, rubbing a fond hand against the back of Glad’s neck, and Gladstone doesn’t care to wonder if it’s to steady himself or the shaking coursing through Gladstone’s body. “But I’ve been around you long enough to know that your luck doesn’t control people, Glad. And it can’t protect you against their emotions, good or bad. So when you get hurt, it’s only because people hurt you.”

“And don’t you dare,” Donald says, tracking a finger softly over the bruised skin under Gladstone’s eye and glaring at him with a raw passion that hurts, and Gladstone ignores the stinging cornering at the edges of his eyes. “Try to tell me that that isn’t a big fucking deal. That you aren’t worth getting mad about.”

Later on that night, he’ll definitely be glad that there wasn’t anyone in that hallway to see the tears pour out of his swollen eyes when Donald pulls him into a rough, awkward hug. But at that moment, he can’t think to do anything other than drop Donalds backpack and hug his cousin just as tightly and with every last inch of his trembling strength.

After a few moments, they pull away, and both are rubbing their eyes without mercy, so when they both look up at each other with red, puffy eyes, they do little more than try to stifle tired laughter that echoes through the hallways. And Gladstone thinks it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

“God, what were you even thinking,” Donald sighs, rubbing a rueful hand through his hair in spent exasperation.

“I was thinking I don’t need my older cousins coming to bail me out every time I get into a stupid scrap just because he feels obligated to,” Gladstone quips back without shame as he bends down to retrieve Donald’s backpack so that he doesn’t have to look at his cousin. “I’m not your problem, ya know.”

“The hell you aren’t,” Donald shot back without cruelty, and staring at him with those deep blue eyes that Gladstone could just drown in. “And, Jesus Glad, you’re not an obligation either. You’re family. You’re all I got.”

And with pure ernesty in his voice, he takes the backpack from Gladstone’s hands when he says, “You and Della and Fethry, you’re all my problems. Della probably being the biggest pain in my ass, but for better or for worse, you’re stuck with me. And I know I can be overbearing and protective but it’s just cause… cause I care. And worry. And you guys are idiots so you stress me out constantly. But, until the day you die, you guys are my one and only problems. Period. And I wouldn’t have it any other way for even a second. Got it?”

And he said it with so much honest confidence and truth, not giving Gladstone even a square inch of wiggle space to argue with him, that Gladstone had no choice but to believe him. So he didn’t argue, and just gave a soft nod and a smile that erased whole years of worry off of Donald’s face when he said, “Got it.”

Donald smiled back as he threw his backpack over his shoulder, but there was still a tense sort of air about him that Gladstone couldn’t very well erase no matter how much he wanted too.

“You’re not still thinking of fighting them, are you?” Gladstone asked, and Donald looked up at the bruise on his face like the answer to the meaning of life was tattoed right there and Don was doing everything in his power to decipher it.

Just watching Donald’s hands start to clench up again made Gladstone’s stomach do Olympic worthy backflips in worry, so he didn’t hesitate to leap forward and put an easy hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “Look, I promise you, it’s really not as bad as it looks ok? Doesn’t even hurt. Bit of ice and some aspirin and I’ll be right as rain by tomorrow. Plus, I don’t even think the dudes are here anymore, and Del and Feth are probably wondering where we are by now. So please, for now, can we just go home?”

Donald has a soft spot for Fethry roughly the size of Jupiter, that kid could convince Don to commit arson with him and all he had to do was give him a flash of those honey colored puppy dogs and Don was a hook-line-and-sinker in seconds.

Gladstone knew that was just par for the course when you’re the baby brat of the family. But never in all his 13 years did he wish he could hone in his younger cousins powers more than he could at that moment as he stared at his cousin with wide, pleading eyes and just please, please Donnie. Let’s just go home.

And for a second, Gladstone didn’t think it would work, but after waffling in his own thoughts for what felt like a handful of minutes, Donald sighed reluctantly. He ran a hair through his fluffy hair, making it look messy and haphazard, and gave Gladstone and equally haphazard, incredulous look. “Fine, on two conditions.”

Gladstone hated conditions, but if it meant avoiding another fist fight, then he could work with the circumstances. “Shoot, coyboy,” he answered.

“First, you tell me about how you got this black eye. I wanna know everything that happened,” Donald listed, which in retrospect, seemed fair and easy to do. So when Gladstone nodded his understanding, Donald continued with, “And two, you stop keeping things kinda things from me. I don’t care if you get into fights, but I at least want to know about them when you do. I’m tired of you trying to sneak around me like I don’t notice you coming home with bruises and limps.”

And that, that kind of sent Gladstone’s whole world on a dizzying spin, and he was thankful that Donald ignored the way his hand instinctually tightened its grip on his arm. Because he didn’t know that Don knew. He thought he had kept it hidden so well. And if Don knew, did Della or Gus or Gran. Did Fethry know?

In his mind, there never seemed like a good time to bring up the fact that older kids just loved making him their number one punching dummy. It didn’t help that he was lucky, so he was a natural target for envy and hatred and snide comment and looks thrown his way.

It also didn’t help that he was a bit (or a lot) of a smart mouth and that usually ended up getting him in more trouble than he was worth. And sure, Donald and Della were popular, and it wasn’t a secret that they were cousins, so Gladstone was sure if he made a little noise about his situation, the bullies wouldn’t even stand a chance against them, and Gladstone would probably never be bothered again.

But Gladstone didn’t want to be saved by his cousins. The same way he would be saved by his luck. This was his problem. He was his own problem, and dammit if he couldn’t even handle this by himself.

So when the bruises started piling up, Gladstone just made every excuse in the book he could come up with to avoid attention from his cousins. Because the last thing he needed was for them to come save him. The last thing he need was for him to just be a nuisance, and bother, and worry, and not be able to do anything by himself.

But boy, even he couldn’t do that right, because Don had seen right through him like he always did and something close to white-tipped fear clenched around his heart when he yelped, “Ok, fine, but we can’t tell Gran of Della, Ok? Please. I’ll talk to you, but I don’t want to worry them about this. Not yet, not until I… Until I figure this out. Please, Don?”

Something soft and feather-light eased at the corners of Don’s eyes, and he rubbed a callous but endearing hand roughly through Gladstone’s hair before slinging an arm around him and leading him towards the school exit.

“You’re a selfish brat, you know that?” He says, and he isn’t meeting Gladstone’s eyes, but he’s smiling with a fond, crooked grin that’s full of all the warmth of the sun when he adds, “as long as we figure it out together, that’s fine with me.”

And Gladstone can’t help but laugh when he snakes an arm comfortably around Don’s side like it’s second nature as he soaks in this rare, tender moment he finds himself in.

That he’s actually in agreement with his older cousin.

Course, he’d never tell Donald that. And he hopes his cousin won’t mind that that’s one of the only things he’ll keep to himself from now on.

#tcs #tcs prompt #tcs fic #donald duck #Gladstone Gander #ouuuuuuuhhhhhh look at me i finally fishish a prompt WHOO HOO #HECK YEAH #RIGHT IN TIME TOO CAUSE LOOK I HAVE WORK FOR THE NEXT MILLION YEARS NOW AND WON'T BE ONLINE FOR AWHILE #SO sorry for the next 3 days this blog will be dead cause I'm gonnabe dead from work #but then I'll have a break and then!!! ABNER FIC!!! #Fuck yeah #love me some good angst #like a week later #donald catches these assholes being assholes to gladstone in the cafeteria #except fethry is with gladstone and gladstone is trying to hurry fethry along so they can leave cause he knows whats coming #but feth doesn't understand why these guys are being so mean to glad when glads like the best person in the world????? #so he's just like hey guys can you maybe no be mean to my dude here and maybe say sorry??? #but all these jerks see is some 5 grader talking to them and so they kinda push him aside #kinda bop him on the shoulder and fethry hits the floor #and then dons on his feet and he sees red and it's all over for those bitches

[savorysatori]

— 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄, 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘. ✗

“choke me, spank me, look at me, thank me.”

— sypnosis: working as a maid in a new house is very exciting, you get the money and everything goes well. although, once you’re introduced to the son of the parents, everything goes down hill.

cw, warning: size kink (?), creep!ushi, pictures without consent, nipple play, gn!reader, non-con, somnophilia, sloppy sex, dry humping, praise, panty stealer ushi.

% wc: 2234.

↷ a/n: y’all have no idea how long this was sitting in my drafts, for fucking 5 weeks plsssss- anyways I hope you all enjoy! this was rlly fun to do. also! shoutout to daisy, this collab was really cool! congratulations on 1K bb. <//3

— @daisy-bakugo, PORNSCAPE EVENT! ilyy.

You were everything he wanted, everything he fantasized about.

[1,000.]

That’s how much they were paying.

It was enough to have you accept the job immediately. It was enough to have you choose between two of the slightly revealing maid dresses and enough for you to be standing in front of the wakatoshi mansion. Briefcase in hand with a bucket of supplies you were instructed to bring. Everything was just right, you were prepared to clean, everything would go well.

The frilly material of the skirt swayed around your thighs and glided against the softness of your thigh-highs. Glistening jewels of your gold bracelets glimmering in the hot sun shining down on your skin. The thin line of thread held up the damp clothes, shredding any of the excess water soaked into them. All of the Wakatoshi’s clothing were fancy. Gold lining stitched in the middle or at the end of the cloth, it was clear they were wealthy. But, it somehow amazed you when your eyes glided to the very end of the line — some shirts & shorts were childlike. Pictures of guns and cars were painted onto a black shirt, it looked like something a 5th grader would do. ‘Maybe they had a child?’ You didn’t know, you only met the parents. Folding up the dry ones, you’d stuff them into the cart and push them towards the other line of clothes swishing in the breezy wind.

You finished doing the daily chores, slipping into their kitchen that was designed well with a beautiful interior. Cold marble was felt up against your skin as you tipped the bottle of wine into your glass, clacking against it. Your glossy lips propped up against the cup and took small sips of the fruity flavor. It slid down your throat and surged a zing of bitterness back up to take in the taste, so sweet and yet so unpleasant at the same time. You’d lick the juice off your lips and place it down steadily on the counter, looking up to see a heady gaze sharped on you.

6’2 and steady build towering over you with dark olive hair — was the wakatoshi’s son. Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Your body stayed still, unmoving. He wasn’t anywhere near a 3rd grader - more like a full grown adult. Tongue peeking out from your teeth to lick the dryness seeping between the cracks, your eyelids hooded.

“Uh- Hello! You must the wakatoshi’s son, I’m the new maid.” Extending your hand out to meet his; his hand stayed at his side, not seeming to shift to engulf yours. You’d drop it back beside you and nipped at your lip when the silence between you both continued.

“Well, I’ll see you around. Nice to meet you.. Ushijima! Your parents told me about you.”

You’d excuse yourself away from his intimidating gaze and close the door behind you. Maybe it’s a good idea to introduce myself another time.

The same look from before followed you out of the kitchen, watching you as you’d take up the laundry basket. His eyes kept gawking at your every move. Staring with every bit of emotion nobody could decipher, Toshi wasn’t a very talkative man and it was visible. He situated himself in the shadows and looked from above, staying out of any scandals his parents were exposed to. He did keep his eye on you. Stepping out of his secure area and making every note to try and approach you without seeming like a creep. His creep intentions did creep up back into his system when you started staying at his house, sleeping in a guest room 8 feet away from his room. It was easy; so easy to sneak into it when the moon raised in the dead of night.

Soft thuds of his feet against the carpet thankfully didn’t alert anyone, giving him the time to steal peeps at your sleeping state. Comforter pulled up. Oversized shirt to cover up the intimate parts of your body he dearly wanted to explore. Soft breaths left your pink lips to breathe it in again, his cock stirring at the sound of it. Toshi knew what was right from wrong, he knew that doing something like this would cost his life — but, dear god you were everything he dreamed of. He couldn’t stop now.

His calloused hands raised the shirt for him to be able to see your tummy, sliding his fingers down to the waistband of your panties. They were so simple and adorned your skin beautifully, keeping the heat between your legs warm just for him. His free hand unzipped his jeans and let them pool at his ankles, such as his boxers. You stirred slightly at the foreign touch, brows creasing forward. He stilled until you relaxed back into slumber, his fingers separated your thighs, and slowly slid the oozing head of his cock between them.

“Ah, princess, f-fuuck.” breath ragged, eyes shut closed to take in the bliss. Contentment streamed through him, his hips rocking against you to feel more, more of you. He was greedy. Toshi was insatiable, he wanted everything of you. He didn’t just want — he needed you. It was a plea. A whine for you, a need. The selfishness ran through his family, that’s how he inherited it. From his family. Was he ashamed? No. Not when you felt so good right now, not when he was about to reach the orgasm he was climbing to.

Sweat fanned down his toned chest, abs glistening with droplets of precipitation. His hips rocked forward one last time, cum spurting from his head and between the soft flesh of your thighs. It was sticky and slimy, rolling down to cover every little spot.

The sight of you sleeping soundly while his cum leaked from between your thighs, made the flaccid touch of his cock stir. You were just so pretty, a pretty little something he wanted to scoop up for himself. And he would do it with no trouble whatsoever. His hand slid down to grab his phone from the floor, lying face down. Toshi aimed right in the frame, snapping a picture for later. He stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans and scurried away from your room, not bothering to clean up the mess of his dry cum smeared on you.

Pressing the ‘start’ button you watched the clothes in the machine swirl with bubbles of soap clouding over them. One hand on the machine and knocking it occasionally to make it turn on again. “Barely working.” You’d mutter.

Despite the Wakatoshi’s being filthy rich, their laundry room wasn’t at all cooperative. There were brown pieces of wood peeling off the wall with stains of what seemed to look like dry substance splattered on it. A bunch of plastic bags and socks were pushed to the corner of the room, dirty ones to be exact. Not much laid in the room other than the things you had listed — except for the posters of lewd manga hanging from the cluttered shelves.

The cool air of the basement door opening brushed up against you, your eyes drifting to see who it was. Standing there was Toshi. He was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. His expression was the same as always, stern and uninterested. You were both met with the silence from yesterday, uneasiness creeping up back to you.

Bothering not to talk, you turned back to the machine to see it at twenty-one minutes. It was almost done and you could leave to wrench away from the awkward silence you were sitting in. You could still feel his presence, you knew he was there and it was uncomfortable. So many questions were left unanswered in your head, you couldn’t understand them.

The back of your skirt was flipped up to meet your back, his clothed length pressed against you. He was hard. There was no doubt he wasn’t big, and that was what made your eye sockets almost swell out. He slowly rocked the fabric of your panties along with his bulge. Fingernails digging into your hip and pushing you up more to gain more access and spread your legs.

“Ushijima-“ words of confusion scrabbled out from your mouth quickly, “w-what are you doing?”

“Shh.” He jabbed the curve of your back and made you lay pressed against the cold exterior of the rattling washing machine. His words flustered you, it provoked you to stay quiet. You had never heard his voice before and a situation like this only shook your brain into a deeper hole of complication. “J-Just — let me do this, let me try it out. Once.”

And you did. You let him try it just once, you let him delude into the fantasy he had been dreaming of. You let him do it. Once.

You calmed down from the aftershock of his tongue sending you to see stars, arms jerking when the feeling of his hot touch pressing your face against the door of the machine. Your fingers tightening around the handle and pulling on it slightly, cheeks swelling up with heat. The sounds of your whimpers and tiny jolts sent him to push along more, arm encircling around your stomach, his voice breathy against the shell of your ear. You were like a succubus, a being he couldn’t leave nor escape, so alluring, sweet and he had just met you not too long ago.

The smack of his cock meeting his stomach caused you to crank your head back, looking over to see a beautiful sight. Ushijima’s cock was thick, curving gently upwards. The skin was a light shade of cream, and the head was large, pink, expanding tip. “Ushi-“ your voice was wavery, unsure paring with it.

He’d shush you again, angling your leg up as his lips pressed a kiss to your glistening cunt. Toshi took notice of your expressions when he slid into the warmth delves; brows creased together and little words scampering out from your lips. Latching onto the handle and pulling it ever so often when he hit a certain spot, whenever the tip of his cock caressed against your cervix- it was so beautiful seeing you be reduced to a quivering, blubbering mess. A surreal sight he would only see.

“You’re so damn tight. So wet, so willing.. just like that baby.” The pump of his hips made you lose yourself over and over again, a mixture of sounds that were all kinds of slobbery and slurred due to your dizziness. His pace picked up with renewed energy, slick and wet sounds fill the air, sweaty bodies clamping against each other. The whines and pants of his name being drowned out, so pathetic- clinging to the latch and crumbling under his touch. It drove him like a mad man, his brain clattering, the way you took him in with no problem amazed him, you were so inviting and supple.

“S’too b-big! Ushi- ah! -“

The whines of him being too big impaled itself into his brain, your shivering body and cunt wrapped around all together had already made him blank out, now with your pleas, it caused a switch in his head to flip and jack-hammer himself into you. Pump after pump. It made your eyelashes flutter with droplets of tears risking to stream down the fat of your cheeks. His hands holding you firmly, brows furrowed with grunts flowing into your right ear. A grunt rippled from him as his cock throbbed harshly inside you, the feeling making him come undone right there.

“Just like that, ah, fuck you make me feel so good.”

Wrinkled skirt falling to the floor, his cock pulling out of you slowly with globs of cum dribbling out of you, he’d shuffle around till you faced him fully now with a perplexed look on your face. The shirt becoming loose as Toshi’s lips wrapped around the sensitive nipple, suckling and easing any leftover moans out from your throat. His hands placing you on the machine and attaching his lips back onto your nipple, tongue flat against your sweaty skin.

“Fuck, U-Ushi! holy- fuck, just like that.” Your back straining as you leaned back, gasping and threading your fingers through his hair to balance. Toshi wasn’t one with words, his statue being quiet and still. But, words poured out from his lips at the sound of your moans, when you were so good for him.

“So, good.. pretty. pretty, like a beauty.” He pulled off of it with a squelch, standing up high and cupping your chin to stare in your love drunk eyes. “You were so good for me, yeah?”

You nodded, vision hazy and eyes occasionally blinking to peer up at him with a blurry image. Your head rested in the crook of his neck, sniffling as he picked up the soiled panties from the floor and stuffed them into his back pocket. They were red and pink, swirly designs on them, he found them so cute. He slid your legs around him and walked out of the room, leaving the washing machine to rattle in the background with soap and water overflowing onto the ground.

Ushijima just couldn’t leave you after that day, he stuck to you like glue. Who could blame him? You were everything he wanted, everything he had fantasized about.

#ushijima x reader #ushijima smut #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #pornscape collab!!👒 #cw noncon #cw somnophilia #cw size kink

[lovee-infected]

hello! I read your post where you clarified your opinion on the character of Malleus and to be honest I really appreciated it! I agree with what you say and I have to congratulate you for the detailed analysis!! May I ask (if of course that doesn't bother you) what do you think of Leona's character instead? I ask because I think (like malleus) that some fans have not fully understood the complex personality of this character and I would like to understand more of it too. Thank you :3

Hello dears! First off, thank you very much for your sweet compliments and glad to hear that you enjoyed my Malleus analysis!

To be honest, I think that being mischaracterized isn't the main problem with Leona, the main problem is that not many actually try to give his character a deeper and detailed look which makes us lose a bunch of interesting facts and points about him and his personality. Leona's design is quite brilliant and I guess we all need to take a moment to go through those interesting details in order to understand that he's way greater than we were expecting!

I mainly talked about some possibilities of how he's mischaracterized in part (1),(2) and (12) and in the rest of the parts, we'll be talking about more specific facts and details about his personality that are often ignored.

1) Let Leona be Leona

The simplest yet the most important part to begin with. While we all understand that he has indeed gone through a hard time throughout his life as the second prince and an often ignored child of his family, it's important to realize that this isn't going to change anything about his dark personality.

Accept it, this is just the way he is. He doesn't mind being reckless, doesn't care if he's annoying at the time, doesn't care if anyone likes what he's doing or not, and doesn't see any need to excuse himself for being so.

He's surely got a painful background to go through which him have the right for being so now, but this isn't telling us that he's still a little kitten. Leona is an adult now and considering him to be a soft boy inside who just needs attention and love is totally against the way he actually is. He isn't a child who can sometimes misbehave, he's a grown-up man. He knows what he's doing and how others may think of him because of his reckless actions. This is just how he wants to be, so let Leona be Leona. But I'm not saying that he's gotten to this point for no reason, this claim will be clarified in part (2) and (3).

2) Do not try to excuse his jerky nature

This is somewhat of a continuation of what discussed back in the first part, keep that in mind that this, is just the way Leona is. Saying that he's a cute kitten who just needs more attention and love, and that he'd be a totally different person by just having someone to support and confront him is surely an adorable headcanon, but it doesn't really suit him.

Or another way of this, saying that Leona may often come off as rude but he doesn't mean to, and he holds a kind and soft heart behind that cold and rough personality.

Look, not all characters are supposed to be kind and good inside. Some are specifically designed to present a cruel and rude personality because this is just the way they are, so trying to excuse his nature is nothing different from trying to change his official design. Leona's past life took on an important role in shaping his personality, but it isn't like he's still a 5-year-old child who'd be calmed down if you talk to him.

His current self, is a result of his past and his personal decisions at the moment; as an adult he knows how to handle his personality and behaviors, and he doesn't seem to really care about what others may think of him now. Both him and the others know that he can be much of a jerk at the time, and the point is: He doesn't mind being so.

3) Leona's childhood has seriously effected his personality and life

While his current personality isn't such a thing that can be changed if you just show him some love and attention, keep that in mind that no one is born evil.

What happens when you're supposed to playing and having fun as child but instead you're working your hardest training everyday to master your magic? And even worse, what if all those months and even years of hardworking result in nothing but your family and people's fear and hatred towards you?

He was just a child, and even if he wasn't going to be the next King he needed to be noticed and paid attention to. He needed his family to be at least proud of him and his powers, but all they did was to leave him on his own because all they saw was an angry kid yet no one ever cared to calm him down-! He might've be raised in a castle, yet there are many things he needed more than wealth and money.

As a child he needed attention and motivation, but since almost everyone around Leona failed him on it, this need of his was never fulfilled and as the result, this part of him would always remain as a child.

He still enjoys attention and being phrased like he enjoys nothing, yet it's not like that's enough to change anything about him. It might've been possible to change him in the past, but now, it's useless. He can no longer be easily effected and changed like a child can be.

4) He is telented and confident

Some may think that self-esteem is a problem of his: "Why he recognize that he's already really powerful?" "Doesn't he know that if he stops procrastinating he will achieve the success he's been always wishing for?" "Why is he always comparing himself to the others instead of recognizing his own telents?"

The answer to all these questions and similar ones is: He knows. He knows that he's talented and strong, he knows that just because someone like Malleus is standing higher than him doesn't mean that Leona is weak, and he knows that he can work way harder than he already is.

We'll talk about his procrastination in part (8) but for now, let's focus on his very own opinions about himself. None of us can exactly tell how much he can do and how talented he truly is, because while Leona is totally aware of his own abilities, he doesn't care to use or show them.

In fairy gala, for example, he turned out to be skilled with posing and walking when Vil pushed him into taking the work seriously, but in the end he just did it to get rid of Vil though he could've done it all in the first place! He did know how to pose, how to walk and how to be one hell of a super model without Vil learning him much about it, yet he didn't show the smallest sign of having the ability and knowledge in!

And when he did it, he was sure that everyone would be impressed, and they were! Though he might sometimes be cocky about it he's sure that if he decides to take something seriously, it'll end up in the highest of quality and the best of result, because Leona knows how to get the best of it.

So next time that you see him not wanting to do anything, know that it isn't anything about him lacking confidence or underestimating his own brilliance, he just doesn't care to show it. And at some point, it may even be because he thinks no one really deserves to get his best. He isn't cheap. He knows that he can do it. He just doesn't want to.

5) He was thought manners

Other than respecting ladies, there's a lot about him that shows his maturity and nobility. Leona is indeed real prince, but doesn't care to show it. With that being said, know that he can go from 0 to 100 in a matter of second, just like he did in Fairy Gala and turned into the prince who stole hundreds of hearts.

The thing is unlike Malleus, he doesn't feel the need to act like the royalty he is, most likely because of the same reason we previously discussed: He doesn't think that anyone is worthy of getting that side of him. He can act like a prince, but doesn't see a need to do so. In summary it's more of a: "Yes, I can be just perfect, but you won't deserve it anyway,"

Give Leona the motivation to reveal that hidden side, and you'll see how it'll impress you. Keep that in mind that we don't even know how stunning he can be when he is serious.

6) He is different from the rest of the NRC

One of the most important facts about him which is often ignored, come on! There're too many things that separate him from the rest of the students but are rarely paid attention to.

First off, unlike many of other students, Leona is an adult, and he's been one ever since he was a first grader. The importance of age explains a lot about one's personality, especially when it comes to a school.

While other students, especially 16 years olds like Ace and Deuce, still have a lot to go through to and are much and less open to learning a new thing from experiencing like they're just doing now, Leona is the least likely (Except Lilia) to face those character developments through his 4 years in NRC because he's already gone through them back in his 16s and 17s.

Even his overblot had the least effect on him and unlike Riddle who tried to come up with a rather softer personality and make a difference in his new self, Leona did nothing but to walk off and even during chapter 3 in which Savanaclaw helped MC to defeat Octavinelle, he didn't treat MC any kindlier than before.

His attitude is already shaped as it is, and since he's no longer a teenager it might be really hard to be changed. This is probably the biggest difference between him and the rest of the students in NRC; his personality is rough and almost impossible to be changed now.

7) He loves to be praised

Remember that we talked about that part of him remaining a child? His love for receiving compliments is a result of it.

Though he doesn't need anyone to bring any of his gorgeous features to his attention, he just wants to see people recognize them and beg him to show them more.

If you walk up to him and say how attractive or powerful he looks he'd probably answer you with either an "I know," or an "Of course I am,".

During his Fairy Gala voice lines he once said: "Sorry, I'm used to compliment," which can be defined into some interesting facts about him.

Since Jack too mentioned that he entered NRC because he looked up to Leona as his role model, we can assume that Leona is more than just a forgotten second prince back in his hometown. And since he said that he's used to compliment, it might be that he's already famous and admired by his fans as he already is.

But just as we said, compliment is something he enjoys receiving in general; it isn't going to effect him in any special way that might change anything about his personality.

It can't be said that he'd ever mind having someone around to phrase him though, he's more of an "Phrase me and don't stop" type and it isn't something that he'd ever reject unless it turns into something annoying.

8) There's a rather interesting stories behind his lazy nature

This one is rather important, Leona doesn't sleep because he's always tired or sleepy in general. And you need to know that Leona's sleeping issues are totally different from someone like Silver's!

Silver literally can't control his sleeping issues and that's how he's often found asleep in weird places but doesn't even know how he suddenly falls asleep while Leona, can stay awake by his own will whenever he wants to, he's just doesn't want to.

In contrast to a rather common belief on Leona being extremely lazy, he can actually be really hard working at the time. This guy had been through some extreme training as a child, therefore he can do way harder now that he's an adult. Sleeping is literally his way of saying "I don't care", so whenever he's got nothing interesting or worthy of staying up for, he goes back to sleep.

If we give it a psychological look sleeping too much often happens to people whose lives have no specific goals, they're neither motivated nor interested to stay awake if they've got nothing to do so -> Sleeping is the best thing they can do. You can tell that Leona sort of lacks motivation in general, because this considerably lazy lion is the same person as the one who's already working his ass off to prepare for the magic shift tournaments.

In the end, all that matters is what he desires. He's also pretty obsessive with his goals so when he wants something, there's nothing to hold him back from doing anything to achieve his goal. He wants it, he gets it.

9) Leona can be childish, but he isn't a child

We previously discussed why his childhood has effected his personality and now, you may wonder how it's effected him. A child's crucial needs are necessary to be fulfilled during their childhood because they. But even as those needs aren't taken care of, they would remain as holes inside the child's personality, because they're necessities which the child's character will always lack. This is much and less of what I meant by saying that this part of Leona always remains a child.

We talked about how he loves to be praised and appreciated, but now let's think of another example that can reveal that wild child. At nearly the end of Octavinelle's chapter, he was literally acting like a big bad boy taking candy (contract) from a baby (Azul). It's not just that, we can tell that he somehow enjoys bullying and teasing others in general. He won't even take it easy on his close friends like Ruggie or Jack, as he repeatedly insulted Jack back in chapter 2 & 3 and was even close to killing Ruggie in chapter 2.

Leona wants to feel powerful, and to be treated like a King. That's why he sometimes enjoys ordering others like Ruggie around all though he knows that before everything, Ruggie is his friend and deserves to be treated better.

He didn't have many friends as a child, therefore he doesn't really get to be a the perfect friend that his allies might deserve now. It's something rather hard to change about him, but those who know and care for him would certainly understand him and know that this is just the way he is, just like Jack and Ruggie are doing now. They could've left him all alone instead of staying by his side all the time, yet they continue to support and be there for him because they do care for Leona.

10) For now, Malleus is the Mufasa of his story

This one's pretty interesting, I really appreciate the creativity used in this design. We all know that Leona's creation was inspired by Scar from 1994's Lion King, therefore I'm pretty sure that almost all of you are familiar with Lion King's famous tragedy:

As the result of Mufasa's reign over the past few years, hyenas had been living in hunger and dread, there wasn't much food left for them to hunt and they didn't dare stepping into Mufasa's territory either. So Scar decided to take advantage and convinced hyenas that their hard and pitiful lives is Mufasa's fault as the King. He gained their attention and support to help him bring down the King, and promised them the wealthiest of lives where they'll never go hungry again in return. And that's how his plan to kill his own brother succeeded.

Now try to use the same plot in twst, but how is it possible? You may think that it must be with Farena Kingscholar because, Mufasa was also Scar's brother, but there's a problem: Farena isn't in NRC.

We don't know what is going to happen in the future storyline where we might get to face a real legacy between Leona and Farena, but for now, he needs someone in the Night raven College itself to play the role of that special rival so he can present his inner villain. And who would that special rival be? Malleus Draconia.

Now think about what happened in chapter two:

Savanaclaw had been the winner of magic shift tournament for decades until Malleus Draconia entered NRC. His iconic magic skills and horrifying powers led to Diasomnia's championship over the last two years. Savanaclaw is pissed off because they literally can't do anything against him and Leona on the other hand is so mad, (This point would be discussed in the next part) and can't stand Malleus wiping the whole Savanaclaw out for a third year. To top it off, he knows that if this happens again, Malleus would find his way to NRC's hall of fame. So Leona convinces the whole Savanaclaw that it's unfair to the rest of the NRC to lose the chance of revealing their talents and using their skills because of Malleus, and asks them to help him bring Malleus down therefore not only Savanaclaw would have a chance to win again, but also the rest of the students will actually have an opportunity to join a fair battle against each other.

See? This is JUST how Scar used Hyenas' weakness against them to make them pave the way for him and bring his enemy down. But the most interesting part is, it didn't end up in victory like Scar's plan did!

11) His relationship with Malleus has a lot to tell

Some may wonder just how does he think of Malleus? What is the feeling is even supposed to be? Is it jealousy? Hatred? Confusion? But I'm not going to talk about how he exactly feels. Instead, I want to talk about why he's feeling so.

First off, you need to know that Malleus and Leona are two sides of the same coin. They're both princes, they come from well known familiesband they're both great and often feared magicians but, there are some big differences:

Malleus would soon be the King, is among the greatest magicians of the world, is respected and well-known throughout the whole Twisted Wonderland and always finds his way to be the number one in anything that he's involved in.

The big difference between Leona and Malleus is that Malleus has gained everything that Leona always wished to have, he achieved them and Leona failed to do so. Malleus presents the picture perfect Leona thad he'd always wanted to be, and that's why Leona can't stand him.

It's not like he can be blamed for feeling so though, even the thought is painful. Imagine knowing that someone just like you exists in this world which has got everything that you once wanted, just why should it be so? Why should Malleus be the one to have them and not Leona? Isn't this life just too unfair...?

And the most irritating part about this is that Malleus doesn't feel the same way. Leona considers him to be his greatest enemy yet Malleus doesn't even consider Leona a rival. Malleus is always calm while Leona rushes to him which again is annoying, as if he doesn't take Leona seriously at all and this is driving Leona crazy.

That's why he can basically do anything just to make Malleus frown at least, he doesn't care if he's okay himself or not because all he wants is Malleus not to be okay. Another annoying fact about it is that it's really hard to insult or use anything against Malleus because he's just...too perfect. Even Leona won't dare underestimate his powers because he knows that it'll end in no good. He's basically looking for each and every possible detail about Malleus to use against him.

Just like how he did back in Malleus's SR robes story. He couldn't use anything better than telling Malleus that he'll never be invited and making fun of his horns to insult him. It's so annoying when you want to torture someone so badly but you just have nothing useful against them. He is ready to do everything to make Malleus angry, to make his calm and respectful expression disappear and finally take Leona seriously as his rival and enemy.

I'm sure that Leona doesn't know anything about Malleus's tamagotchi otherwise he would've told the whole school about it by now.

12) He isn't one to easily fall in love or to be effected by anyone

Many of the previous parts can reason this point, we talked about his personality, why it's so hard to change anything about him and how we should let Leona be Leona. But still many wonder if he can still fall in love? And the answer is: Yes. Leona as well can fall in love but it isn't necessarily easy.

Leona isn't used to letting people in and accepting that he needs them in life, which is why a relationship with him can have a pretty slow development.

In the first place, it'll take a rather long time for him to first trust someone let alone accepting them as a friend. He's pretty hard to approach you see, mostly because he often wants to be left on his own. He doesn't want to desire or need anyone and doesn't think that he'll ever need any other beings except for the times when he wants to get his room cleaned or have his meal prepared.

Love is something odd to him and it takes a very long time for him to actually feel it. You might think that he won't get it when someone loves him to the point of having to slap and shout: "Can't you see that I'm flirting with you..!??", but he's actually the total opposite. Note that he's pretty smart and would quickly realize it when someone's even staring at him, so nothing would be easier than telling if someone if having a crush on him. But he'd pretend that he doesn't know.

He doesn't really care what others feel about him and even as one loves him, he sees no reason to love them back. Whoever his lover is, they need to be really really patient with him because they must prove him that they aren't giving up this easily. He'd most likely try to tell you off and make you hate him multiple times, it really confuses him to see someone not letting go of him despite knowing how cold and mean he can be. He isn't a stray cat that would that would have his heart melted if you give him some head pats or treat him nicely, gaining Prince Leona's attention is no easy.

Even as he falls in love, it isn't going to totally change everything about him, so we can't expect him to let go of each and every poor manner of his because some of them are basically linked to the way he is in general.

He'd be different though, he tries to be more respectful and charming toward the one he desires, but as a lover he's often the: "Shut up and kiss me" type. He'd still be into teasing, but not in a humiliative way. He just enjoys messing with the people he likes so it's more of his way to play with his darling and showing admiration!

Beware though, if he falls in love, his darling would be his new goal, and he'd take no effort in making his darling his and only his. If he wants the darling, it must be him and only him who will get to have them. Just as much as it's so rare of him to actually reach the level of loving someone, know that he'll be so dangerous when he's serious about it. He won't be messing around when it comes to love.

I can keep talking about him all day but this has already gotten really long and I don't want it to get boring or any longer to read- I must admit that Leona's charater is quite interesting to study and the amount of details about his personality is surely fascinating!

#Twst #twisted wonderland #Twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #Character analysis #leona Kingscholar #leona Kingscholar x reader

[hellimagines]

Collateral -- JJ Maybank (Part One)

Masterlist

Summary: JJ’s stunt with Barry bites him in the ass when the angry drug dealer kidnaps you and decides you’re JJ’s collateral for the stolen money.

Warnings: kidnapping, violence, angst, mentions of child abuse and drug use

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem!Routledge!reader

Word Count: 4,800+

A/N: I started writing this after binge-watching Outer Banks, and before I knew what was happening, I had written 20 pages of this and hadn’t even gotten to the climax… So, this has clearly been broken up into parts. I have part two already finished, and I’m almost finished with part three, but I’m not uploading them tonight because I want this to see the light of day first, and gain some love before I do anything. Please let me know what you guys think of this! I know there isn’t a lot of mushy-feely stuff in this chapter, and it’s mainly angst but, I had so much fun writing this, so please give it a chance and tell me what you think. Also, it’s canon divergent because I tweaked the DCS storyline and everything after John B. finds the first gold bar.

|Part Two|Part Three|Part Four|Final Part|

Your shift at The Wreck had been a long and strenuous one, more so than usual, because Kie hadn’t shown up for her night shift which left you to pull a double and cover for her. In your opinion, the nighttime customers were always worse than the morning customers since they typically consisted of kooks and tourons who expected the best of the best and nothing less. You had a short fuse, similar to your boyfriend, and would often get snippy with customers who complained about trivial things: their drinks having too much ice, their salad too much dressing, or their Chef’s Board not enough cheese or the wrong kind of cheese. Kie’s dad kept you on morning and afternoon shifts as much as possible due to the locals of The Cut coming to the cafe during those times, and your ability to make them feel at home while they ate their toast and sipped their coffee. So, having to work a night shift unexpectedly without a break from your morning shift left you feeling exhausted and detached from the world.

As peeved as you were with Kie for pulling a no-call-no-show, you were more worried than anything; especially when you noticed JJ wasn’t waiting outside to walk home with you like he normally was. You hadn’t heard from any of the other pogues since yesterday, when you had to go to work and they went over to Crain Mansion in search of the gold. You would’ve gone with them, but you couldn’t risk missing another day of work and possibly being fired. After your shift yesterday (and noticing the lack of blond curls outside the cafe), you had headed home with the plan to meet up with your friends and learn of any new updates--but, when you arrived, nobody was there. You waited around for the rest of the day, but when 10 o’clock rolled around and nobody had shown, you retreated to your bedroom and fell asleep. When you had woken up around 5 a.m to get ready for your shift at work, you were relieved to find JJ curled around you fast asleep, and your brother, Sarah, Kie, and Pope passed out together on the futon in the living room. They had a pot cradled between the four of them, but you thought nothing of it as you got ready for work. You left behind a note, asking them to stop by The Wreck when they woke up to fill you in on whatever you had missed, but they had never shown up. 

Now, as you locked up The Wreck at the end of your 10 o’clock shift and waved to the cooks and other wait staff as you all parted ways, your worry only increased. The Cut was warm and humid as you made your way toward the chateau, forcing you to shed your work shirt in favor of the tanktop laying beneath. Your hair was pulled into a high-pony, and while it had been sleek and put together at 6 o’clock this morning, you now had frizzed strands falling into your face and the bottom of your hair was sticky from an exploded champagne bottle earlier that night. Your feet ached and your hips felt unbalanced from the constant speed-walking and maneuvering around tables and patrons, and you wanted nothing more than to collapse against JJ in your room and sleep for a solid 12 hours straight. Before you could do that, though, you had to continue your thirty-minute walk to said paradise and make sure everyone was okay. 

As you left the hustle and bustle surrounding The Wreck and the docks, and ventured further into The Cut, you felt the tension beginning to ease out of your body at the familiar surroundings. As much as you loved The Wreck, you were not a fan of the kooks and tourons that migrated there throughout the night, bothering you during and after your shifts. As expected, the night held the worst of the batch, with alcohol and other drugs filtering their systems and giving them loose tongues and firm hands. Even though you could handle yourself and those who tried making a move on you, you never felt at ease or safe while leaving The Wreck; unless JJ or your friends were with you and you didn’t have to check over your shoulder every few feet. Crossing the imaginary threshold between The Wreck and The Cut always eased your mind, allowing you to slow your steps and cease checking your shoulder. This was also primarily because on The Cut, people knew who you were--not only as a waitress, a pogue, or (Y/N) Routledge, but as ‘JJ Maybank’s girl’. It pissed you off to no-end that people referred to you as ‘JJ’s girl’ more than your own name and you’d often chew people out on it, but you couldn’t deny the protection (and love and warmth and all-things-JJ) it gave you. You and JJ had been dating for two years, and while you loved him more than life and he loved you more than surfing, you often wished you could be seen as your own person: as (Y/N). Regardless of your annoyance at being solely known as JJ’s girl, as you walked the barely-lit streets of The Cut in nothing but a tank top and shorts, you were appreciative of your unofficial title. Very few people were walking around this late at night, but those who were offered you a simple nod or kept their eyes trained on the ground as you passed by, a complete contrast to the tourons near The Wreck. You expected this to continue until you reached your house, no longer looking over your shoulder for an unwanted kook or a touron that didn’t know the rules. 

You turned another corner, now only fifteen minutes away from home, and rolled your shoulders to try and release some of the built-up tension you gained from your shift as you walked. You closed your eyes for a brief moment, letting your muscles relax and a gentle breeze from the ocean to cloud your senses. Just as you were about to open your eyes and continue forward, you heard footsteps approaching you from behind. Your eyes shot open and your body turned but before you could see who it was, you felt the barrel of a gun press against your lower back. The metal was cold against your tank top as it dug into you, the owner’s hand coming up to grab your shoulder and keep you from moving away. 

“Maybank shouldn’t be leaving his things unattended, especially ones as pretty as you,” a voice muttered into your ear, jabbing the gun harshly into your spine. You froze, trying to place the voice to a face as you heard a vehicle approach and stop beside you.

“I’m not a thing, actually,” you retorted, keeping the fear out of your voice as the man behind you jerked you forward toward the black SUV. The backdoor swung open, but you couldn’t see who was driving it or if there was anyone else waiting for you inside. “What do you want? JJ isn’t his dad, whatever Luke’s done to piss you off is his own problem, not ours.”

The man laughed sharply in your ear as he shoved you forward, causing you to drop your shirt and tumble off the sidewalk, and your torso to fall into the backseat. You yelled out when the man grabbed your legs and pushed your body into the car, your body bending painfully as he slid in beside you. The door slammed shut and the man backed you into the corner of the SUV, caging your body against the door. Your hand shot down to the door handle, yanking on it to open the door and let you fall out, but it didn’t budge. 

“Child lock, snowball. You’re not going anywhere.” 

You looked up, finally able to see the man’s face as he grinned down at you. His grill shined each time the SUV passed under a streetlight and the black hair dangling in his face tickled your nose from how close he was. Instantly, you brought your foot up and kicked him in the stomach, pushing him away from you as you struggled to sit up. 

“What the fuck do you want, Barry?” you snapped while the dealer across from you laughed loudly and held onto his stomach. 

He smirked at you, “I forgot how much of a kicker you were, snowball.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been tryin’ to sell blow to fucking 8th graders,” you shot back, glaring at him. “Now tell me what the fuck you want.”

He raised his hands in surrender, the smirk never falling from his face. “I want my fucking money back. You little shits stole 25k from my goddamn house.”

“What the fuck are you on about? The last time I went to your shithole was a year ago to buy an 8ball,” you scoffed. 

“And while I do miss the revenue you brought me during your time as a cokehead, I’m not talking about you, snowball. Your boy, your brother, your brother’s new whore, the ex-kook, and Heyward’s son stole from me. I know you’re too smart and levelheaded to pull a stunt like that, and the ex-kook and her boyfriend have too much going for them to fuck it up by crossing me. This means it was either your boy or your brother,” Barry explained, his jaw tight with anger as he spoke.

“First of all, Kie and Pope have names. Second of all, they’re not dating. Third of all, what makes you think it wasn’t Sarah? From what I’ve heard, the Cameron’s have a history of robbing you blind.”

“Because my sister is too much of a pansy to pull a stunt like this, and she doesn’t even know who the fuck Barry is.” Your head shot up at the new voice, and you made eye contact with Rafe in the rearview mirror. “You dirty pogues have corrupted my sister.”

“I see someone’s been bitched,” you chuckled with a roll of your eyes. Rafe’s foot slammed on the break and caused you to slam into the back of the passenger seat with an oomph. He turned around, his arm already raised to throw a punch, when Barry grabbed it first.

“Chill the fuck out, Country Club. Can’t go beaten on her just yet. Now hurry the fuck up and get us to the hanger.” Rafe’s nostrils flared at Barry’s demand, and after a moment of his fist flexing in Barry’s hold, Rafe relented. He jerked his arm back and continued driving in silence. “Don’t piss off the driver, snowball,” Barry tsked, waving his finger in your face.

“Look, why would JJ or Birdie steal 25 thousand dollars from you? You know how much JJ despises you and your business because of what it’s done to his dad and the hole I fell into last year, and my brother doesn’t even know who the hell you are. It doesn’t make any sense.” 

Barry chuckled, “I see they’ve kept you in the dark. Did they tell you about the gold they found? That they tried pawning off to me this morning?” At the frown on your face and your furrowed brows, Barry laughed even harder. “Oh yeah, they brought in a seven-pound chunk of gold to the shop this morning. Offered ‘em a cashier’s check worth a couple thousand, but your boy is quite the negotiator. So, I sent them to the warehouse for the cash they wanted.”

“And let me take a wild-fucking-guess: on their way, you jumped them, stole the gold, and left them with nothing but dirt under their nails?” 

Barry grinned at your words, his tongue sliding over his grill as he laughed. “See, this is why they should’ve brought you along! Would’ve saved them from all the trouble they’ve gotten themselves into.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Well fuck, no wonder they stole from you. You stole from them first, Barry. An eye for a fucking eye, it’s the way of the jungle ‘round here. It’s the only damn law you follow.”

“You’re right, it is the only law I follow. Which is why you’re here, snowball. You see, before I could complete my task, they jumped me and stole my wallet and the gold. You’re smart, I bet you’re starting to see the problem now. No gold, no wallet, no 25k,” Barry seethed, the smirk falling from his face as he leaned forward, pushing you back into the corner of the seat. “JJ Maybank stole from me, plain as day. If I had seven pounds of gold in my hand it would be different, I wouldn’t be as pissed. But, you see, I don’t. So, as you said, it’s an eye for an eye. And what better to steal from JJ Maybank, than the only thing he cares about? The only thing he owns?”

“He doesn’t own me, so jot that down.”

Barry threw his head back and laughed loudly, shooting an unnerving feeling down your spine. Rafe laughed along, though anyone could tell it was forced as his eyes darted from the mirror to the road. “This entire goddamn island knows that he owns you, snowball, and you damn well know it too. Which means until I get my money back, you’re my collateral.”

--

The bruises decorating JJ’s torso ached with each step he took, but he had to keep moving toward the chateau: he had to prove to the others that he was good. He had to prove that he could do the right thing with the money he stole. Even if his dad couldn’t do the right thing, and wouldn’t let him back in the house without another beating, JJ could do the right thing and be good. Even if he stole the money it didn’t matter, because Barry stole his life, and Barry didn’t deserve the money, and Barry wasn’t good. The money would pay off his restitution, and you wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore and Pope wouldn’t have to feel guilty or worry about it anymore, either. Nobody would have to worry about him anymore, and it would all be good. 

But as JJ limped up the chateau’s steps, repeating to himself that, ‘it was all good, he was good, and everything would be good,’  he wasn’t expecting for the screen door to slam open and for John B. to body slam him into the ground. The blue thermos shot from his grip as he was flung down the stairs, and JJ couldn’t bite back his scream of pain when his already-aching body slammed into the dirt. He didn’t get a second to gather his bearings before John B. was pummeling his fists into his stomach and his arms and his face and anywhere else he could land a hit. JJ couldn’t even lift his legs to fight off his best friend from beating on his twice-battered body.

“This all your fault!” John B. screamed, his face an angry red as tears and spit rained down onto JJ. “He took her because of you!” He ceased his punches only to wrap his hands around JJ’s throat, squeezing and pressing down in an attempt to strangle the life out of his best friend.

Faintly, JJ could hear Pope, Kie, and Sarah screaming, but he couldn’t understand what they were saying. His entire body felt cold but his head felt hot, and the buzzing in his ears was growing louder and louder until it was all he could hear. He could see John B.’s face above him, his lips moving as he screamed and sobbed, and JJ could see his own blood splattered on his best friend’s jaw and shirt. Black spots began to dance in front of his eyes, moving inward until he could only see the murderous rage filling John B.’s eyes. Just as the darkness settled over him, he felt John B.’s weight lift off of him and air came rushing back into his lungs. For a few seconds, all JJ could do was choke on the air whilst his body convulsed, and someone rolled him onto his side in a desperate hurry.

“-eathe, breathe JJ, come on.” Someone was talking to him, rubbing their hand up and down his back as he continued to shake. He still couldn’t see anything and he couldn’t tell who was talking to him and rubbing his back and all he really wanted to do was blackout for a bit. A harsh slap against the center of his back had other plans, causing the air to finally force itself into his lungs. JJ began to cough violently, continuing to choke on the air that was now entering his body. He tried pushing himself to his knees as he dry-heaved onto the ground, but his shaking arms and legs were too weak to support him.

Pope was yelling in the background, “Chill the fuck out, JB! You almost killed him!”, his voice bringing JJ’s senses back to where they belonged. 

“He fucking deserves it! He’s the reason she’s gone!” John B. yelled back, his voice deeper than JJ could remember. JJ blinked a few times, trying to focus on the bloody grass in front of him while his two friends continued fighting in the distance. 

“Hey, just keep breathing,” the person helping him - who JJ now recognized as Kie - soothed, pulling his sweaty hair out of his face as more blood dribbled from his lips. She was upset, JJ could tell by the way her hands were shaking and the sound of wet sniffles every few seconds. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, who John B. was talking about, but all that came out was a harsh wheeze from his burning lungs and even more blood. “Don’t- don’t say anything. Please, JJ, just… just breathe for a few minutes,” Kie whimpered before a sob slipped from her lips. 

He did as she asked and allowed his eyes to close, his body sinking into the ground as he focused on regulating his breathing. After a few minutes, JJ could hear John B. storm inside the chateau, kicking JJ’s crumpled body on his way up the stairs.

“John B., stop it!” Sarah yelled as she followed him inside. 

Pope came and knelt in front of JJ, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to help him sit up. “You fucked up, JJ, worse than I ever thought possible,” Pope sighed as he adjusted JJ against the railing. 

“What-” JJ broke off to cough into his fist, ignoring the blood that splattered across his hand, “what happened?” His voice was hoarse and barely understandable, but Kie and Pope knew what he was saying. 

“You stole twenty-five-thousand dollars from a drug dealer. One of the most nefarious drug dealers on this island, that’s what happened,” Kie said, standing up and pacing in front of the blond. “What did you think was gonna happen, JJ? That he’d let it go?”

“What did he take? The HMS Pogue?” JJ rasped, looking up at his friends in confusion. “(Y/N)’ll be pissed, but we can get it back, or I’ll buy her and John B. a new one with the money.” His thoughts didn’t make sense inside of his pounding head, but he still voiced them regardless. 

“How are you so stupid?” Pope yelled, causing JJ to flinch as the other to shot to his feet. “Why would John B. try to kill you over a boat? Don’t you think (Y/N) would be out here yelling at you, too?”

“My girl doesn’t yell, you know that, Pope,” JJ shook his head. “She’s got work and the boat- the boat is all they’ve got left of Big John,” JJ said, coughing a few times. His head was foggy and his vision was still blurry, so he couldn’t see the mentioned boat sitting on the dock to his left.

“No, JJ,” Kie sighed, “Barry didn’t take the HMS. He took (Y/N). He left a note on the van--he wants his money back, plus the gold, and an extra 5k in exchange for (Y/N). He’ll be back in a week to make the trade.”

“He didn’t say what he’d do to her if we don’t give him what he wants but… it’s not something that needs to be said,” Pope whispered as he carefully watched for JJ’s reaction.

A cold chill fell over JJ, causing him to shiver violently despite the warm temperature outside. “You’re lying,” he spat, forcing himself to his feet. Pope and Kie backed up, steering clear of his sudden burst of energy. “You’re fucking lying, she’s not- she’s not gone, he didn’t lay a fucking finger on her. Barry knows better. You just… you just want me to return the money, that’s it, she’s fine, she’s inside right now, she’s-”

“JJ, stop, please,” Kie cried as JJ spun around, tripping over himself in his haste to run up the stairs. Pope grabbed ahold of him before he could make it very far, pulling him away from the house and John B.’s anger. JJ flailed in his grasp, but he was too weak from the lack of oxygen and two beatings his body had just endured, to fight Pope off. 

“She’s fine!” he screamed, not noticing the tears that were falling from his eyes. “I told her I would protect her, I promised nobody would ever lay a finger on her! She’s inside, and she’s fine--Barry didn’t fucking touch my girl, you’re lying,” he sobbed, straining against Pope’s hold on his biceps.

“Why would we lie about this?” Kie yelled back, suddenly overwhelmed with having to watch JJ fall apart like this in front of her. “Why would your best fucking friend try and beat you to death if it wasn’t true? Why would the gold have been included in the letter? Huh JJ? Do you think (Y/N) would have ever gone along with something like this?” she screamed, her voice hoarse from crying as well.

“We’re telling the truth, JJ. She’s gone,” Pope said, holding onto JJ even tighter as his thrashing momentarily increased. 

JJ let the words wash over him, the truth of his mistake settling deep in his bones. The guilt, and the grief, and the anger weighed him down, and before he could stop himself, he let out a deep, guttural, inhumane scream of agony. Pope couldn’t hold him up anymore as JJ’s knees gave out, his entire body collapsing to the ground while he screamed. His throat burned more than it had before and he didn’t notice when his voice gave out, leaving him a mess on the floor with spit and blood dribbling from his gaping mouth. Pope cradled JJ to his chest, crying into his best friend’s shoulder while Kie fell beside the two, trying to get JJ to breathe again through her own tears.

--

Half an hour later, you were pulling up beside a hanger at the very back of a storage facility. You knew kooks used this area to store their boats, planes, cars, and other expensive things when they weren’t intending to be used in the near future--so you weren’t surprised when Rafe got out of the van and opened up the hanger, revealing a vintage boat and a handful of different furniture. With hurricane season already underway, and summer having begun, you knew kooks weren’t going to be visiting the storage facility very often, meaning there wasn’t a high hope that someone would stumble across you. 

“Welcome to your new home, snowball,” Barry leered, before opening the backdoor and dragging you out of the SUV. He kept the gun pressed against your waist while leading you into the hanger, leaving Rafe to pull the SUV around the corner. It was cold inside, much colder than you were expecting, and you had to fight to keep a shiver from trickling down your spine. “You and I are gonna be real comfortable in here for the next week, maybe longer if your boy doesn’t come through.”

‘He’ll come through’, you thought to yourself, worry spiking inside of you at the mention of JJ. You looked over your shoulder as Rafe came into the hanger and loudly pulled the door down behind him. “So, what? You’re just going to keep me locked up in here until you get what you want? I have a fucking job, Barry. I’ve already called out enough as it is, pulling a no-call-no-show for an entire week is going to get me fired.”

Barry reeled around to stare at you, an incredulous look on his face. “I’ve just kidnapped you and held you at gunpoint, and you’re worried about your damn job?” he asked, waving the gun in front of your face for emphasis.

“Uh, yeah, no shit. My job is the only reason DCS hasn’t snatched me and my brother into the system. Mr. Carrera has agreed to help us maneuver a few technicalities with DCS--so long as I take on extra shifts when needed, and show the fuck up. Plus, a week’s worth of zero tips means bills won’t be paid and stomachs won’t be fed,” you scoffed, knocking the gun away from your face.

“I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in, snowball-”

“Ay, nuh-uh, Country Club. Get your own nickname,” Barry cut in, prompting you to raise your eyebrows.

“But you-”

“Nope. Get your own.”

Rafe paused, glaring down at you in thought, before nodding to himself. “I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in, Maybitch-”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” you groaned, pressing your fingers to your forehead in exasperation. ‘It’s got a nice ring to it, though, and JJ would eat it up… Could even get a laugh out of Pope, I bet,’ you couldn’t help but think.

Barry knocked the gun against Rafe’s shoulder, shutting him up with a look of annoyance. “Your boy has gotten himself in a lotta trouble, 25k worth of trouble. So until I get my fucking money, you’re not going anywhere,” Barry simplified.

You pouted in mock disappointment, “Could you at least write a note to my boss?” Barry groaned with a roll of his eyes before he nodded his head at Rafe and directed him toward something you couldn’t see. “Look, I’m gonna be honest with you, Bear. JJ and the others have probably spent the money already. JJ’s got restitution to pay, Pope has an interview he needs a suit for, Kie’s been wanting a new surfboard, and Birdie’s been wanting to fix up our boat with somethin’ pretty. There’s no way they’d let 25 thousand dollars burn a hole in their pockets.”

Barry chuckled darkly with a shake of his head and turned your body around. He forced you to face the spot he had sent Rafe to, where you saw a metal chair bolted to the ground with Rafe stood beside it. He held a boat chain, a lock, and zip ties in his hands and a wicked grin was cracked along his face. Barry moved your ponytail out of the way so he could lean his chin on your shoulder, taking satisfaction in the way your body trembled. “Trust me, snowball, after they see how well you’ve been treated at Hotel Barry, they’ll find a way to get me my money. And you,” he paused to laugh softly in your ear, “you’ll be providing me all the information I need on where to find the rest of that gold.”

‘I’m so fucked.’

--

All Writing Taglist (OPEN): @sophster1881​ @alilcloudy​

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks imagines #outer banks x reader #the pogues #the pogues imagine #the pogues imagines #the pogues x reader #outer banks netflix

[tsukkisalty]

TsukiYama Soulmate AU

Okay, so I saw this post right here by @meliohy and it heavily inspired me to do this! So thank you very much for that haha. And this got way out of hand and is super long, and I’ve never written Tsukiyama before so I’m sorry if they’re a little OOC. Anyway, I’m pretty happy with it, so tell me what you think!

“Everyone is born with the first words their soulmate will tell them written on their skin. Some are simple, others funny, cute, or painful. No matter what, you can’t erase them. You can only wonder... who will say those words, and why?”

Yamaguchi is 5 years old when he first learns to read. He’s excited, elated even. He will finally be able to read the word printed on his neck. Yamaguchi still doesn’t quite realise what it is, or its importance. But he knows it’s a mark that everyone has and is unique to them, somehow? He doesn’t understand why, but he yearns to find out what it is, what it all means.

That’s how he ends up in the mirror, after having run up the stairs right after school, with his shirt off and his brow furrowed. He remembered to read the word backwards and everything, but he still can’t make sense of it.

“Pa... te... tic?” No, that’s not it. What sound do the t and h make again? Right! “Pa...the..tic!” Yes, yes yes!

Yamaguchi jumps around his room, fists punching the air. “Pathetic! Pathetic! Pathetic!” He screams in delight. He can pronounce it all in one go now, and he repeats it like a mantra. That’s his word. His. His feet jolt to the ground.

What does it even mean?

Yamaguchi's sure it’s something special. Surely. It must be. He runs along to the kitchen, where his mother is slicing tomatoes at the counter for dinner.

“Mamaaa!” He calls. “What does... ‘pathetic’ mean”

The knife drops on the floor with a clang. Yamaguchi gives a step back, surprised. Did he pronounce it wrong? No, he’s almost completely sure it’s correct.

His mother turns around slowly.

“Yamaguchi-bo,” Her voice is calm and sweet, but Yamaguchi can feel the hair on the nape of his neck standing on end, “Where did you hear that.”

“It’s right here, mama.” He grins, proudly pointing at his neck. He pouts. “But I don’t know what it means.” His mother gives a sigh of relief. So no other children have learnt to read it yet. And they don’t know what it means, either. But if Yamaguchi has learnt to, it’s only a matter of time before...

“Sit down here, Yamaguchi.” She pats the little stool at the kitchen table. “I’ll tell you what it means.” He nods and bounds energetically to his seat. Finally, finally. He’ll know.

That day, Yamaguchi found out what soulmates were. He still doesn’t get it. But it’s like a best friend? For life? It sounds amazing, he can’t wait to find his. But when he’s covered by his bedsheets hours later, he realises his mother never answered his question. Whatever. He’ll ask what ‘Pathetic’ means tomorrow.

Yamaguchi is 10 years old and he definitely knows what ‘pathetic’ means. He’s learnt to cover the ink on his neck with a big plaster, at first with his mother's help and then on his own. He knows what ‘pathetic’ means alright. It means he’s useless, lame, weak. Unworthy of a soulmate. It means his soulmate hates him, that the person he’s supposed to spend his life alongside wants nothing to do with him.

Yamaguchi cries to his parents, and they tell him it’s impossible. His soulmate loves him. He has to. But Yamaguchi still catches the uncertainty in their eyes.

It makes sense, doesn’t it? No one could ever love him.

He knows what being pathetic is. It’s being himself.

And one day, after school, he’s kicked down by a bunch of boys from his class. He’s used to it at this point. The name-calling, the shoves. He can already feel the bruise forming on his back, as he stares up at the boys that tower over him. But even though he’s used to it, it still hurts. He feels the burning behind his eyes, and the tears leaving wet rails down his check. His bullies don’t miss it either.

“You’re so weak.”

They laugh. They jeer. They taunt.

“You’re such a baby.”

They push. They kick. They don’t stop.

“Useless.”

“Lame.”

“Look! He’s crying.”

And it keeps on going and going, and he can’t block it out.

“Pathetic.”

Yamaguchi’s head jerks up. Who said that? He doesn't know. Some of them he’s never met. He feels his blood freeze under his skin. Of course. Here is his soulmate. It’s what he deserves, isn’t it? A bully?

His face is a mess of tears and blood and sweat and dirt and he doesn’t even know which one of them it is. They’re all shouting, saying words he can’t hear. His body is scorched and frozen all at the same time. He just wants to scream, but he’s too weak. Too weak for any of this.

Silence.

None of the bullies is looking at him anymore. His eyes search around them.

A boy is walking past. He turns his head at them, his face expressionless. Yamaguchi feels a slice of hope. Will he help him? No, he looks way too cool. He’ll probably join in with the rest.

“What are you looking at?”

One of the boys snarl.

“Hey, isn’t he a sixth-grader?”

He sure looks like it, thinks Yamaguchi. If his bullies were towers, this one is a skyscraper. His legs are long and lanky, his pose is relaxed. He has tousled blonde hair and glasses. Yamaguchi didn’t know people with glasses could be cool.

He isn’t a sixth-grader?

They're in the same year group?

Yamaguchi doesn't know how he couldn’t have noticed him before. He is striking.

The boy lifts the corner of his lip into a smirk.

“Pathetic.”

And keeps walking. Yamaguchi doesn’t even register the word, he is left stupefied at his attitude. He laughs in the face of his bully. He doesn’t even care. He has so much confidence. He stood up to them. He called them...

Wait.

Yamaguchi doesn’t realise until his bullies are gone, and he sits alone in the mud. He can feel the dirt and sweat sticking to his skin, but he can’t make his body move. His legs are convulsing violently, he doesn’t dare try to stand.

Because... did he just meet his soulmate?

That day he goes home, and his parents see the change from just yesterday. He smiles at dinner, he hugs them goodnight. He grins at the dark ceiling. And finally, after so many years.

He lets himself hope.

He doesn’t run into him until a few days later. By chance. He doesn’t realise who's behind him until the tallboy has walked past him already, into the gym. He sighs. Of course, his soulmate does volleyball.

“Thank you for the other day!”

Yamaguchi bows, but the other boy is confused.

“Have we met?” Yamaguchi almost clutches his heart, he’s sure he could hear it shatter. Shouldn’t those words be written on the blonde’s skin? Maybe, he just hasn’t realised? Or hasn’t read them?

Still, he keeps talking to the boy, full of admiration. Even if he isn’t his soulmate, he is still incredible. And cool, definitely cool. Somehow, though, he doesn’t have any other friends. Yamaguchi admits that the boy is a little cold, but he wishes he could be the same.

He learns his name is Tsukishima.

And next to him, he never gets picked on again.

Even if Tsukishima isn’t his soulmate, he’ll definitely be a good friend. And even if he isn’t his soulmate... Yamaguchi can’t help but hope he is.

 Yamaguchi is 13 years old when things aren’t like they used to be. He doesn’t care if Tsukki is his soulmate or not. (At least, that’s what he tells himself) But he is his best friend. Tsukki knows Yamaguchi's soul mark is on his neck, covered, but he doesn’t know what it says. They never talk about his own.

Things aren’t like they used to be, because now Yamaguchi feels things. Before, he just felt happiness. To be next to Tsukki, to talk to him, to follow him, play with him. Anything with Tsukishima, he just felt happy.

However, now he has to fight himself. When Tsukishima says his name, he has to fight not to squirm. When he leans on him, he fights not to scream. And every rare time Tsukishima shares his music and offers a singular earphone, he has to fight his own body. He can feel his hands tingling, aching to grab his face. He fights his eyes, to keep them from staring at his best friend’s lips. And he fights his own lips, and the constant urge to lean in and crash his mouth against the other’s.

 “Yamaguchi!” His best friend calls, hand beckoning him, “Walk with me to school.”

“Yes, Tsukki.” He scurries forward, as flowers bloom in his ribcage, “What are you listening to?”

“Shut up Yamaguchi.”

“Sorry, Tsukki.”

Even if everything is different, at least that’s the same.

  Yamaguchi is 16 and he’s never been surer of anything in his life. He’s in love with his best friend. But they aren’t soulmates. Knowing Yamaguchi’s luck, it was probably one of the boys who bullied him as a child. Otherwise, Tsukishima would have recognised the words he said, so long ago.

He’s grown used to all these feelings. The strain on his lungs when they lock eyes, the prickling of the skin Tsukki grazes, the acceleration of his blood flow, on the rare occasion his friend smiles. Most of all, he’s used to the agony in his chest, when he remembers: Tsukishima isn’t his soulmate. And all the good moments disappear; those lethargic, comfy mornings after sleeping over, the pride in Tsukkis eyes after a match, the strawberry shortcake shared at lunch. None of it matters.

Because they aren’t soulmates.

And Yamaguchi gets stabbed in the chest, over and over and over. Maybe if he stopped hanging around Tsukishima all the time, stopped following his every command with alacrity, stopped giving in to the velleity of kissing his lips, stopped backing up every sarcastic joke. Maybe then, it would stop hurting so goddamn much.

Who was he kidding?

Soulmate or not, he couldn’t bear to be apart from him.

Sometimes, Yamaguchi let his mind wander. What if Tsukki realised they were soulmates? What if he confessed?

And sometimes, his mind went in the other direction. What if Tsukki knew Yamaguchi was his soulmate but didn’t want it to be him? What if he hated him?

Those were worse, and plagued his every dream at night.

But Yamaguchi had grown used to it. All of it. But nothing had changed since he was a child. Because even though he’s used to it, it doesn’t stop it from hurting. And it is so much worse than getting punched, or kicked or teased.  And it never stops.

One day, at volleyball practice, something happens, like a slice to the throat.

Hinata and Kageyama are soulmates.

“How did it take you so long to find out?” Yamaguchi asks, confused.

“Hinata’s a dumbass.”

”Hey! You didn’t realise either!” They start yelling at each other, and Yamaguchi looks over at Tsukki.

“Of course those two idiots are soulmates.” And it’s the way he rolls his eyes at the word ‘soulmates’ that twists the blade in his chest.

“I’ll be back,” Yamaguchi mutters, pushing Tsukishima on his way out the door, head bowed.

“What’s wrong with Yamaguchi-Kun?” Asks Yachi.

”Don’t know.” Tsukishima shrugs. But all through practice, he worries. Especially when his friend does not return.

Did he have a crush on Hinata or something? Is that why he left? He’d never seen Yamaguchi so upset. Not like that, at least. He just looked... empty.

Yamaguchi did in fact, feel empty. He felt cold, and light, way too light. Like he could float straight through the ceiling of his room and into the sky. He wanted to be sick, he felt like he was going to. But he had nothing in his system.

Did Tsukki even believe in soulmates? Did he even care? At all?

He grabbed a book from the shelf and threw it against the wall. The pages flew apart, and the spine collapsed.

Yamaguchi realised that felt good.

Well, it felt.. something.

SO he kept going. He didn’t limit himself to books, he threw his chair, his posters, his shoes. Anything that would suffer from it. He was so tired of holding all the damage.

He hurled a big, thick book at his bedroom door. The pages went everywhere, one landing on his feet. Shit. It was a photo album.

Yamaguchi’s arms trembled, as he bent down to turn the photo over. It was of him and Tsukishima, at the age of 11. It was before his growth spurt, so Yamaguchi's head barely touched Tsukki’s chest. And they were both smiling, in brand new volleyball gear.

A teardrop fell on the picture.

Yamaguchi didn’t even know he was crying. His knees crumbled before him. He hit the ground. Hard. But he couldn’t get up. Couldn’t even stop crying. Didn’t even know why he was crying. He was just exhausted. From trying. From feeling. From everything. And he was weak. He knew he was. He always had been.

But he hadn’t felt it until now, now that his sobs had become screams. He could feel the tension in every muscle, and he let go of everything, like a broken tap. He kept screaming and crying and wailing and he forgot to keep it to himself.

“Yamaguchi?”

Tsukishima was in the doorway. He wanted to strangle him and kiss him all at once.

“How did you get in?” Yamaguchi heard his voice creak. It was hoarse, from his previous catharsis.

“You gave me a key, Yamaguchi.”

He didn’t get up from the floor, just stared down at the photograph. Willing himself, to go back in time. To stop himself from ever meeting Tsukki. From ever feeling this heartbreak.

“This is going to take a long time to clean up.”

“Shut up, Tsukki!” He gasped at himself. Oh no. He didn’t mean to shout and oh god, he was just caught up and emotional and-

“Sorry, Yamaguchi.” His voice was caught in his throat.

Said life-ruiner knelt down next to Yamaguchi.

“Mind telling me what happened?” Yamaguchi stared up at his friend. His golden eyes had never been so soft. So... caring. He restrained himself from collapsing into his chest.

“I just...”He whispered, unsure. “Tsukki... do you believe in soulmates?"

Tsukishima almost toppled over from his crouch. His best friend was surprised by the question but instantly recomposed himself.

“Yes, I do.”He looked at the ground. “Is that what this is about?”

“Yes.”

They both sat down next to each other, crumpling papers and cracking splinters scattered on the bedroom floor.

“Tsukki, why do you...” Yamaguchi took a deep breath, “Why do you never talk about your soul mark?”

“Why don’t you talk about yours?” He retorted.

Yamaguchi felt his cheeks come aflame.

“Fine. We’re best friends. I guess I could talk about it.” Yamaguchi stared at his friend, mouth agape. Was he really...?

“I like the idea of soulmates. I really do, actually. But... I just don’t want to fall in love with someone because of some words on my skin. Or even, be forced to fall in love with someone when I could just as easily fall for someone else. Someone who maybe isn’t designed to be with me, but maybe I like them more or know them longer or, whatever. I don’t like being told who I’ve been paired up with. I don’t want to be told what to do.”

Yamaguchi nodded silently. Definitely sounded like Tsukishima.

“So... when I was a kid and I learnt about soulmates I... I bandaged the words off. And... I never looked at them again. I kept the bandage on as long as possible, and I close my eyes in the shower. I started when I was really young, so I don’t remember what it says.”

Yamaguchi’s eyes widened.

“I want to fall in love with someone because I love them. Not because some ink says I should. And then...” Tsukishima paused, his fingers picking at each other like baby crows. “When I was older, I really, really wanted to look. I was desperate and curious as hell. But I didn’t. Because, well... I just really wanted it to be you.”

Yamaguchi felt his heart stop. He was no longer breathing. Time no longer existed inside his body, every cell was stuck in place. Tsukishima continued, without a glance at his deadlike best friend.

“And I knew it couldn’t possibly be you because you would have said something. But, as long as I didn’t look, I could let myself hope you know? Schrödinger's cat and all that. I just couldn’t imagine being soulmate to anyone but you and I just wanted it to be, more than anything else.”

Tsukishima let out a fake laugh.

“Pretty pathetic, huh?”

“Tsukki.” His voice cracked, and his friend finally turned to look at him. His freckles were decorated with the paths his tears had travelled and his purple lips were trembling. He had to say something. Anything. To let Tsukki know that it was okay. But he couldn’t. All he could do was stare and stare. His throat was dry and rough, like sandpaper.

Pain shot round his neck, as he ripped the plaster off. He had no words in his mouth, but he did on his body. Tsukki’s eyes widened and his lips parted as he read the word.

Wordless, he lifted up his shirt, where a big white bandage covered the top of his left ribcage.

Yamaguchi and Tsukishima shared one last unsure look before he tore it off his body with a hiss.

Yamaguchi looked at him. The skin there was paler than his already pallid body, and it heaved rapidly along with his breaths. But most striking of all, were the words written across his heart.

 “Thank you for the other day”

#tsukiyama #tsukkiyama #tsukishima #tsukishima kei #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu scenarios #yamaguchi #yamaguchi tadashi #tsukki x yamaguchi #tkymweek2019 #soulmate au #haikyuu soulmate #first words soulmate au #angst #not an ask #haikyū!! #haikyuu hc

[aquillis-main]

A bit of a more general ask this time. So, we all know commentary videos, especially of the negative variety. And usually when people criticize the format, one of the main points is "long video bad" (from 30+ minutes to an hour and then some more), however, at first I didn't really get why that was a negative thing? I personally enjoy detailed analysis of the such and such as long as it's properly structured has all the excess fluff trimmed. Obviously, not everyone has the time or patience for these, we are all human after all, we got life things to do, but "long video bad" just feels like a kneejerk reaction at this point (side note: I'm not implying any specific topics here, just talking in general). To sidetrack a bit, when it comes to online discussions, I can engage in as much good faith as I can with literally anyone, as long as their arguments don't boil down to "you are wrong because you are dumb and you are dumb because you are wrong", however, I also understand that throwing waterfalls of text onto someone has a big chance of dissuading them from having an actual discussion. So, where do you think the line lies between "being thorough about the topic so nothing gets misconstrued" and "overexplaining the matter to the point of actual tears"?

I feel that you can’t really find a ‘middle ground’ between these types of things, regardless of how much people try. There’s always going to be people who just cry foul at a 10+ video for being ‘too short’, before going to cry about a 5 hour documentary about some person nobody likes for ‘not getting enough views’, and other people vice-versa. Yeah, what people say about ‘Long Video Bad’ is a knee-jerk reaction these days (I mean, look at me -- I’m trying to look for work in the middle of a pandemic, I’ve got all the time in the world to watch a 5 hour documentary on some smuck who can’t help but get into drama, lols), especially since a good chunk of us are stuck inside without much to do. At the end of it all, however, there’s often going to be people who will just complain about ‘Things They Don’t Like’, regardless of how much it makes sense in context.

It’s the same with Online disscussions, too. One can be like @benignmilitancy and @crusherthedoctor, and completely spit out an entire essay about why ‘this point is wrong and here’s my reasoning as to why it’s wrong’, and some sect of people won’t bother reading it because all they see is ‘haha, you suck’ written 50 times over. It’s also the same with the curt, but easy-to-digest responses that @darklightheart and @greenyvertekins can also give out because while they can boil their points to what is essentially bullets, some people will go “Um, actually, you’re wrong because of (insert a reason that they interpreted from the medium that may or may not be correct, which most of the time it isn’t)”.

I often try my best to switch between the two types of disscussion, depending on if I feel everyone’s said the things I wanted to say or not (wow, me admitting I won’t hop onto a conversation mostly because I’m actually quite lazy? Who’d have thunk it?). I’m sure you can guess which things I’ve answered about what is which in the past, but even I myself have often got taken out of context and misconstrued becuse Social Media has ran with the idea that you need to have a Second Grader’s Intellect in regards to how to ‘Have a Disscussion Online(tm)’, and nobody knows how to read between the lines anymore. It’s a sad fact of life that nuance is a thing of the past, and you have to hammer it into people’s heads about how literal you are about a subject, else someone out there might misinterpret you. And, to be honest? I’m tired of having to curate what I say online, because some random child got offended just because they saw ‘you suck’ in my writing when I never said that.

I’d rather try and get people to have them understand where I’m coming from, not necessarily have them agree with me.

#Aquillis Answers #amida-mothrae #Opinion #Social Media #Online Discussion

[orange-waterfalls]

What Did You Do?

Platonic Wilford Warfstache x gender neutral!reader

@insertadumbnamehere ty for the request!

A/N: ok, so, this one takes place before, during, and almost immediately after WKM. I figured that "The Warfstache Affair" would take place pretty soon after it, so yeah. Wilford is referred to as William and The Colonel. You two are besties. Rated... T for cursing. Uh,,, I finished this during study hall instead of studying so... Appreciate my work. Inform me on any mistakes please.

Asks and submissions are open!

Word Count: 2.2k

--

You sat in the living room of your house, waiting for your friend to show up. William had a knack for being late to everything, you knew this and have accepted it by now. You were browsing through movies, wondering what you guys should watch. Nothing about Safari's or about a war. You might trigger something. He'd been through too much.

You heard your door unlock and creak open. You'd given him a key at this point in your friendship. You looked up at the Colonel and smiled. He wasn't looking at you.

"Hey, Will," you greeted. He nodded to you, a small smile on his face. It seemed forced.

"Evening," he responded. You tilted your head slightly.

"I uh… was looking for a movie. Anything in mind?"

"No… not particularly…"

"Ok. Well I found some feel-good movies, or we have some horror if you'd--"

"I got a letter," he interrupted. You raised an eyebrow at him. He cleared his throat. "It's… it's from Mark…" you scrambled to your feet, walking over to him. He was holding a letter with "William J. Barnum" written on it. You knew about his… falling out with the actor. It was pretty bad, from what you heard. Over a girl as well. You thought that to be a bit immature, but you didn't need to tell him that.

"What does it say?" You asked.

"I don't know. I haven't looked yet."

"Why not?"

"I wanted to wait until I was over here," you squinted at him in confusion. "In case… I read something I don't like…"

"Well… open it!" You urged. He tore the top open and took out a piece of paper. He read it to himself. You didn't need him to read it out loud to you, as you looked over his boulder to read.

"I've… been invited to Markiplier Manor for… a party…" he explained. You stepped away from his shoulder and stood in front of him.

"Well?" You asked.

"Well what?"

"Are you going?"

"No! Why would I?" He asked. You furrowed your eyebrows.

"Because… he's your friend--"

"Was my friend, Y/N. Was my friend…" he spoke quietly. You rolled your eyes.

"Ah, yes. It must've slipped my mind that you two behaved like 3rd graders…"

"Hey!"

"... And haven't talked to each other in years because of a girl." The Colonel stepped towards you.

"Celine is not just a girl…" he said in a warning tone.

"Yes, yes, I know. She's a woman. And you don't talk to your best friend because of her!"

"He's not my best friend, you are!" Your face heats up a bit. "And anyways, I didn't stop talking to him because of that, I stopped talking to him because he was a selfish prick!"

"And you didn't even try to talk it out? That seems a bit immature, Will…"

"Oh, please. Like you're mature…" you frowned at him.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You aren't exactly the most fair person yourself."

"Oh, really?" You raised your voice. "Care to elaborate, William?"

"Why, yes," he growled. "You're needy, you're selfish, you complain so much when you don't get everything you want--"

"What are you talking about?"

"Sometimes I don't want to hang out with you, Y/N!" He yelled. "Sometimes I just want to hang out in my own home by myself, but you just want me to hang out with you at every chance you get. And I do not want that!"

"Why not?!" You yelled, your voice cracking. You didn't have many friends, William was one of the few you had. Of course you wanted to hang out with him. You didn't have to be doing anything just… being near each other was fine for you. You could admit, you were a bit clingy.

"Sometimes you remind me of him," he sighed. You didn't think it was a compliment.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You asked. At this point, William had already lost his temper, and was now just spitting whatever popped into his mind.

"It means the only difference between you and him is that he has enough money to pay people to stick around! All your friends just feel sorry for you!" He snapped and realized his mistake all too late. You stared at him with a hurt look, feeling the tears glazing your eyes. You had trusted him with one of your insecurities. You had let him in. And now he was using that against you.

"Y/N…" you spun away from him. "Y/N I didn't mean…" he reached out to touch your shoulder, but you jerked away. He pulled back. You were letting the tears spill and quietly crying. Soft enough that he could tell you were trying to hide it, but loud enough that he heard you anyways. He put his arm back at his side.

"I'd like you to leave," you said, your voice wavering. His eyebrows furrowed.

"Y/N-"

"Leave, Will!" You demanded. He sighed.

"I'll… go to the party… we'll talk later, okay?" He said. You didn't respond. He sighed and left your house, leaving you to cry on your own.

--

It had been about a week since you'd seen or heard from the Colonel, and you were ready to talk. You thought he was just giving you space since he knew how upset you were. You texted him, "hi, Will. I wanted to apologize and say that I'm ready to talk whenever you are." And left it at that. You didn't think much about the fact that he didn't respond, until the next day.

Two policemen had shown up at your door.

"Can I help you?" You asked, slightly nervous.

"Do you know a William J. Barnum?" They asked. Your heart stopped.

"Um… yes…"

"We'd like to ask you a couple questions about him." You opened the door for them to come inside. You invited them to sit down on your couch, and made some coffee since it was early.

"So…" you began, nervously. "What's up with Will?"

"He went missing," The cop on the left said.

"Oh…"

"After he presumably killed 5 people." You froze. William? Kill people? No… no, he couldn't… he wouldn't…

"Excuse me?" The cop on the right called your attention. You snapped up to him.

"Huh?"

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"Oh… um… a couple days ago… he told me he was going to Markiplier Manor for a party… we had a fight… I haven't heard from him since then…"

"I'm sorry." The left cop apologized. You nodded at him. "Do you have any idea of where he could be?"

"Uh… no. No, I don't think so…"

"Do you have any idea of what could've cause him to do this?"

"Well… he has some anger issues… and, uh, he doesn't really like Mark… they had a… falling out a while ago… over a girl…"

"A girl?"

"Yes. Celine…"

"Celine? Sister of the mayor Celine?"

"Yes?"

"She's one of the people who've gone missing since the party. Along with Mayor Damien, and a District Attorney." You widened your eyes.

"W-What about the other two?"

"Hm?"

"You said he presumably killed five people? What about the other two?"

"Oh, uh… Mark's Butler told us that Markiplier was dead, but his body had gone missing. And uh, we found the body of a detective in the Manor. He was shot in the chest with a 357 Magnum." You frown. "Any recollection of that?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah… he takes his Magnum everywhere…"

"Mm…"

"But… I never thought he'd…" you felt the tears burning your eyes as they threatened to fall. The left cop sets a gentle hand on your arm.

"I'm sorry about this. I know it's hard, especially if we don't even know for sure. But we need you to work with us," he consoled. They also you a couple more questions before standing up to leave.

"Here's the police station's number. Call if you get anything from him, okay?" The right cop said. You nodded, wipond your eyes with the back of your hand. They thanked you for the coffee and left. You sat on your couch, sighing. William…

"Damnit, William, what'd you get yourself into?" You mumbled and got out your phone.

--

William sat in the empty room, music playing on a boombox in the corner. He was thinking, and the beats of 80s songs were apparently helping with that.

Why were the police after him? He didn't do anything. He didn't kill anybody. He knew he didn't. I mean… the District Attorney was living proof of that. Abe was… fine. Right? Of course he was… if they were alive, why wouldn't he be? He started to laugh a bit. This was so… ridiculous! It was mad! He loved it!

There may have been something wrong with his head. Watching the person you killed come back after seven hours can do that to a person…

But he wasn't crazy. He wasn't. He knew that for a fact.

bzzt

He turned his head to the phone he sat on the boombox and raised his eyebrows.

bzzt

"Now, who could that be?" He said to no one in particular. He leaped to his feet and waltzed over.

bzzt

He looked at the phone, checking to see who it was. The contact name was "N/N". You had changed it to your nickname a while ago, saying that if he had a nickname, you should have one too. He smiled widely as he saw it.

bzzt

He picked up the phone.

"N/N! Hello, how are you? It's been a while, huh?" He said, his voice all over the place.

"William, what did you do?" You asked bluntly.

"Well, I missed you too…"

"William. What did you do?"

"Not much. I had some cake the other day and-"

"William..." You growled. He furrowed his eyebrows, wondering what you were so upset about. Then, he laughed.

"Ah, so the police got to you. I didn't do anything." He claimed.

"Don't lie to me, Will," you warned.

"I'm not! I would never!"

"Then why do the police think you killed five people?!"

"Five people? No!" He paused. "...maybe two or three…"

"What?"

"It's fine, they came back! Well… one of them did…"

"What the hell are you talking about?" He grunted in frustration.

"I shot them in the chest. I sat right there next to the body for several hours. Then they just got back up. Right there in front of me."

"... okay… William-"

"I was thinking of changing my name, actually! What do you think about "Wilford Warfstache"?"

"I think we shouldn't talk for a while." You said quickly. William's smile dropped and he froze.

"What?" He asked softly.

"I think, until things calm down, you should lay low for a while and… we shouldn't talk."

"But… but I like talking-"

"I know, Will. I like talking to you too. But this is serious. You're in trouble for some really bad things. You should try not to make it worse, okay? Keep quiet and don't cause trouble." You commanded. "It'll be safer for the both of us if we don't stay in contact. You know my address, you have a key, I don't plan on moving anytime soon. If you really need to come here you can."

"Y/N…"

"I'm gonna miss you, Will." Your voice cracked as you spoke. William felt tears pricking at his own eyes.

"I'll… miss you too…"

"Goodbye…"

"Wait!"

"What?"

"I'm sorry… about before…"

"I know… I am too…"

"... I love you…" you chuckled from the other end of the line.

"I… love you too…" Then you hung up. William stood there for a moment, not sure what to do. You were his best friend. What was he supposed to do now? Who was he supposed to have a movie night with? Who was he supposed to talk to?

He looked over to his previous spot on the floor, where he's left his gun. What was one way he could let you know he was doing good without contacting you?

He smiled and started giggling.

"Time to cause some chaos!"

--

It had been three weeks since your call with William. The police contacted you occasionally, asking if you heard anything. You always said no. You knew William, and he wouldn't do anything like that on purpose. So, you didn't tell the police anything.

You worried about William. He didn't seem like himself on the call. He seemed… loose. More… careless. That was worrying.

You sighed as you opened your front door, having just bought groceries. You sat the bags in your kitchen and turned on the TV to have some background noise as you cooked. You flipped through the channels until something on the news caught your eye. You went back to it

"--a gruesome series of murders committed by a man who calls himself "Wilford Warfstache". The police think this man may be the fugitive William J. Barnum, who is allegedly killed the actor Mark Fischbach, the mayor of the town, the mayor's sister, a detective on the case, and a district attorney." the newswoman explained. You gaped at the TV. "He is responsible for killing a woman, her husband, their neighbor, their dog, and possibly, their baby. If you see this man, call the number on screen right away." They showed a picture of William with his mustache dyed pink. You buried your face in your hands and swore.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me…"

#wkm wilford #markiplier wilford #wilford warfstache #wilfordmotherlovingwarfstache #william j barnum #wkm the colonel #the colonel #wilford warfstache x reader #wilford warfstache x male!reader #wilford warfstache x female!reader #wilford warfstache x gender neutral!reader #wkm x reader #x reader fanfiction #x male reader #x female reader #x gender neutral reader #wilford warfstache x you #wilford warfstache x y/n #x you #x y/n #x reader #markiplier egos x reader #markiplier egos #markiplier

[saja-star]

I have slightly less, but very similar, items in return: 1, 2, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 17, and 38!

Question list here.

1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

It’s mostly/all dialogue. The characters get in an argument about something, and during the conversation figure out where the other is coming from and come to some mutual understanding. Plot happens vaguely in the background.

2.  Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

I’ve been wanting to write a sickfic. I feel like that’s so suited to Venom, with healing and an awareness of the body being such a big part of things.

5. Share one of your strengths.

I like to think I’m good at humor in dialogue. I can’t like, do it on purpose? But sometimes I’m writing a scene and it just turns into banter and that’s one of my favorite parts of writing.

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

From Rescue:

There was a prick of danger as they approached the boy, and they got ready to cover his mouth if he screamed—

They collapsed, writhing on the floor as noise sheared through their flesh like a razor blade, slicing right down to the core of them, to the place where they were connected, and severing it, leaving Venom to drip from Eddie’s shaking body like black blood from a poisoned wound.

The sound cut off. Venom crashed into the silence like falling from a high place into water: one second writhing and helpless and the next floating in noiseless nothing, not sure which way was up.

The warmth of Eddie was jerked away before it could slink back inside. It felt vibrations in the floor—thumping, scuffling—and crawled towards the struggle. There was a spot of bright light—it couldn’t see on its own per se, but it had a vague sense of light and darkness. It barely registered the glow before the light flared into a jet of searing heat. Venom felt its flesh sizzle and pop as it burned away. Slow, agonizing seconds ticked by as it tried to flee and the stream of fire tracked its crawl across the concrete floor. It slowed, too weak to keep moving forward—and then suddenly there was dark and cool, except for the faint burn of the oxygen atmosphere. 

With Rescue, I set myself a challenge to write something that was much more plotty than my usual fics, particularly something with action, and I feel like it turned out pretty well. This scene is a good example of the kind of flowy, stream-of-consciousness style that I ended up leaning on for fight scenes. On the other hand, working from Venom’s perspective I also got to play with its sensory differences and try to write something very tactile, which is always fun.

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

From The Inspirational Symbiotic Kissing Lichen:

Eddie stood in the door to the kitchen blinking blearily. "What is that and why is it over our door?"

It is lichen.

"Are you sure? It looks like a piece of tape covered in bits of dirt."

I had a hard time scraping it off the fire escape last night.

Eddie suspected that what Venom had found on the fire escape was a patch of flaking rust, but he kept it to himself. "What happened to the mistletoe?"

I threw it out the window. Mistletoe is a parasite. Why would you celebrate love under a parasitic plant?

"What? Plants can't be parasites."

Can too, Venom said like a first grader. Mistletoe grows roots inside trees and steals their nutrients.

God it was too early in the morning for this. Eddie needed coffee. "It's got leaves. It can eat sunlight. Why would it need to do that?"

Because it is selfish and bad. Are you arguing with Wikipedia?

"No." Eddie sighed as he headed into the kitchen. "So why lichen? Was it the only plant you could find?"

It is not a plant. It is a symbiosis.

"With what, rocks?" Eddie fumbled with the coffee maker.

No, it is a symbiosis. It is algae or bacteria mixed with fungus. And possibly yeast. And possibly another fungus.

"Okay. Fun fact, I guess. Why is it hanging over our door?"

It is a four-way symbiosis, Eddie. It is inspirational. And romantic.

Eddie stopped. "...Are you trying to tell me you want a four-way?"

You are missing the point.

This exchange is, for me, the sweet spot between nerdery and humor and fluff.

9. Which fic has been the hardest to write?

Figuring Out, not even close. I wrote it, hated it, came back to it a few weeks later, edited out about a third of what I had written, begrudgingly posted it, and then came back to it a few weeks after that and edited down another third. Still not especially happy with it--I feel like it kinda wanders around without the  coherence that a really short story like that needs. 

10. Which fic has been the easiest to write?

Gestures. I sat down and wrote it in about fifteen minutes without pausing, skimmed back over it for typos, and then posted it. Most fics take me days to draft, and I edit them 3-4 times at a minimum. I have no idea what brain compartment Gestures came from, but the core ideas of it--non-verbal communication, tactile affection, Venom discovering a forgotten instinct for connection--I have rehashed in some form in every fic since.

17. Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

Almost always from start to finish. I don’t plan a story in advance, so I don’t know where it’s going, so there’s not really a way to skip ahead. That’s not saying much though, since all my fics are real short. There have been a few times that, as I’m falling asleep and a bit of dialogue or whatever just comes to me without context, I’ve typed it out in the notes app of my phone and then, some weeks later while I’m working on some wip, I realize that segment could fit. 

38. Talk about a review that made your day.

From transpeterparker on Venom VS. Technology:

i love this....... i love this so much....... what the fuck............... this Series. Oh My God. fuck me up. i love their relationship i love. i l o v e grbhiefwklsjehvbfiwu

Every review I’ve gotten has made my day! This stands out in my memory because was the first (and maybe still only?) keysmash I’ve had in a review and I know that feeling of reading something and just being at a loss for words with happiness and it was so exciting to see that in a comment on my work.

#bakageta #venom #venom fanfic

[blogging-not-my-forte]

Here’s some Miscellaneous HC’s for the TDI Nerds AKA: More Headcannons for the friend group that isn’t Cannon nor Fannon but I do love.

(This was done with a high school AU setting in mind, but I think they would work in the shows universe, too.)

Harold and Noah get along surprisingly well when it’s just the two of them

They’re both know-it-alls who like correcting people

But Noah Cares A Lot about how People view him, so he avoids Harold like the plague when in public.

One day Harold’s like “Dude?!”

So Noah sit’s him down and explains that he can’t be seen in public with him because he doesn’t want people to know they’re friends (And he’s being kinda Noah Brand Rude)

And Harold’s like, “Oh, ok, cool. Yeah, I don’t really want people to know I’m friends with you either, considering how mean and unlikable you are, so this works out :)”

And Noah was offended for a week.

All three of them get way too serious with video games.

They play a lot of competitive multi-player games together, and they work pretty well as a team.

Harold once convinced Leshawna to play a couple games on his account, and she Wasn’t Very Good.

Harold was very nice and was trying to show her what to do

Every time she got a Kill Cody would be like “Nice one, Leshawna!”

At one point Noah got tired of dealing with her so he just started insulting her in his Noah way.

Harold defended his lady’s honor and was like, “How dare you disrespect some one as Grand as Leshawna!”

And Noah was like “It’s not disrespectful if it’s true.”

The Next time he saw Leshawna, she slapped him.

Harold once invited the other two to join him at one of his Judo lessons

Cody was down because he thought it’d be a good skill to get ladies

He did it for a day before the constant getting showed up by first graders proved too much for him.

When Harold asked Noah, Noah just Laughed for 5 minuets before leaving.

Harold and Cody go to conventions in cosplay a lot.

Cody Designs some of the costumes and Harold gets his mom to help  make them :)

After a lot of begging, Cody finally got Noah to join them.

When they went to pick him up, he was just wearing normal clothes and Cody and Harold were so mad at him.

“You Said You Would Cosplay!!”- Cody

“I am. I’m a Background character from (Something, i dunno).”

“Pssh, yeah right, I don’t remember anyone dressed like that in (a thing, I promise)” - Harold

“Yeah it’s pretty obscure.”

Noah tells the ticket guy this, and he believes him, getting Noah a Cosplay discount.

Cody and Harold still haven’t forgiven him to this day.

It doesn’t help that he was only there for 30 minuets before hearing someone say “*Gasp* Look, a dog!”

And When Noah turned excitedly to see the dog, it was someone in a fur suit (One that, as Harold pointed out, Was really well made)

Noah hasn’t been to a convention since.

Cody is a very  good artist and is always showing the others his Fan art

Harold is Very Supportive while Noah is very Not.

But Cody Knows Noah likes them because the few that he’s made him he’s kept

For their birthday’s Cody always draws them something

For Harold it’s always something where it’s Him but doing something cool or dressed cool or whatever

For Noah, it always involves his dog, and he almost cries every time, and he will deny this.

All three of them like Anime, but where Harold and Cody talk about it all the time, They don’t know what anime Noah likes to Watch

They know he watches it because every now and then he’ll pop into a conversation with a point

or He’ll send an Anime meme at 3 am

and this blows the other two away every time. 

Harold is always desperately trying to get more information out of him, but Noah acts like he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

Cody mispronounces Manga and other Anime terms all the time by accident.

Harold Hates it

Because of this, Noah Purposely mispronounces them, because he’s a jerk.

When Harold confronts him, Noah always plays innocent.

Every time Cody brings up his crush on Gwen or Harold Gushes about Leshawna Noah makes an audible and obnoxious gag sound

After Cody realized Noah had a Crush on Owen; every time Noah mentions him Cody makes  the most Obnoxious kissing sounds and Noah gets extremely flustered (So they’re even)

Harold still doesn’t know what’s going on, and every time he asks what it’s about Noah’s like 

“NOTHING D:<”

And Cody’s like

:3c”

Just when Harold was deciding that he was done putting up with Noah, Duncan starts up a bully shesh with the H man

And, out of no where Noah stepped in with a flurry of witty insults that made Duncan back off

Harold was like “I thought you didn’t want people to know we were friends?” :Oc

And Noah was like “Whatever.”

Sometimes Harold will enter a room where Cody is and say “Omae wa mou shideiru”

and Cody always comes back with “NANI?!”

One time Noah was also in the room, and he just got up and walked away.

Cody sends OwO’s and UwU’s in the group text

Sometimes Harold Responds with Nya

Sometimes Noah responds with “Why don’t you guys just shoot me? It would be quicker and more humane.” 

To which the others reply with “owo?” and “Nya?”, receptively (And also immediately) 

Noah always makes fun of Cody and Harolds Band

But he does attend every gig and can be found in the front row

One time while performing Harold locked Eyes with Noah and Noah just flipped him off.

#td headcannon #td harold #td cody #td noah #tdi nerds #i know this isn't an actual friend group #but that's not gonna stop me.

[veridium]

dirty little secret

WOAH BOY. I did not expect such a quick turn around, but when you’re writing sweet, sweet friendship, shit happens. thanks to @bitchesofostwick and her fabulous writing that got my gears going.

I have been wanting to use an all-american-rejects ref as a title since we started and now, here I am!

on this episode...Olivia awakens to find Ellinor wearing a strange fleece (HM??). BUT, that is not the only incident that surprises her, as a message left on her door gives her cause for concern. 

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4 // part 5 // part 6 // part 7 // part 8 // part 9 // part 10 // part 11 

--

Her cell phone alarm goes off as it always does on wednesday: 7:30, just enough time to get her shit together before her 10am lecture. However, as she revisits the text she got the night before from Ellinor, it also becomes a beautiful morning for hearing all about her “group project meeting.” Luckily she doesn’t have to travel far, or bother with pants. Wearing an over-sized, old All-American Rejects tour shirt she thrifted a year ago, she fits the bill when lastly she slips on her pink fuzzy slippers -- the only items of her wardrobe she would accept in such a color. She then wanders a few doors down to Ellinor’s and Sera’s room. Sera is gone for a few days on some road trip to one of her many hair-brained destinations, so Olivia has no minced feelings about knocking loudly.

Knock, knock, knock. Nothing.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. Nothing again.

“Knock, knock, bitch, get up! We need coffee!”

The door rips open, and a face with slight drool on the corner of her mouth and hair tousled over her eyes appears. But, it’s not her expression that Olivia’s eyes fixate on like a moth to a fleece flame.

A Knight athletic fleece, the expensive one.

“Good morning sunsh--shit, is that…”

Ellinor jerks her chin down, suddenly coherent. Her brow furrows and she whirls around to retreat back into her lair, mumbling things while she lazily swings the door shut. Olivia, of course, slaps her hand on it and waves it open with gusto.

“Ellinor Trev--”

“NO.”

“Is he in here?!” she skips in, looking around in all corners and nooks as if Cullen is compactible like a lawn chair or something. “Oh, God dammit, I never catch your lovers! No fair!”

Ellinor crawls back under her covers and pulls them up over her head. Interestingly, she does not forsake the fleece sweatshirt that has seemed to magically exist out of nowhere.

“Is that his…”

“Mmph.”

“So it IS. You’re a filthy liar! You said you didn’t do anything in your text, I got receipts!” Olivia promptly hops onto the lower side of the twin mattress, curling her legs up under her sideways.

“I didn’t do anything. I meant it. I just...this...it was cold, okay! Why does everyone think I am magically not cold susceptible? I have questionable circulation…” she half-whines the last part, before squirming into her pillow some more like a burrowing naked mole rat.

Olivia hums, not convinced. “You got some explaining to do, and this calls for extra strong coffee. And scones. I want every detail. I’m gonna throw on some sweats or something, I won’t be long.” The casual mood she has yesterday with Cassandra has carried over through a full night’s sleep, and Olivia feels all the pomp and makeup of her typical routine to be unnecessary for once. She swats on the bump in the comforter she suspects is Ellinor’s ass before hopping back onto her feet and out into the hallway. She’ll be back to wrangle her soon enough out of the depths of her ironic despair.

Scooting her poof-slippered feet out into the hall she spots her door half-shut. Only, it’s not her door -- not the way she remembers it, anyhow. There’s...papers? Taped on it just above the doorknob. Posted notes and event reminders aren’t exactly unheard of in dorm halls, but as she walks she scans the other shut and locked doors -- nothing. Just hers has stuff on it.

When she arrives she yanks off the posted paper and notices some hastily copy/pasted clipart of some crosses mounted on a hillside. Her stomach churns as she reads the message. It’s a pamphlet-esque flyer asking the reader if their soul has been saved, and if not, resources in order to accomplish that. On the back there’s a scripture excerpt as the header, and then a list of every Church in the city limits with their contact information and addresses. It has the design skills of a 4th grader who’s project is due the morning after and all they have to use is Microsoft Word 2003.

And on the very bottom, handwritten for that special touch: “For the Slut in 21C.”

She looks both ways down the end of the hall and sees no one lurking, though the hair on the back of her neck stands up. The faces of those Church preps that pouted at her when she was on Cassandra’s bike pop into her head. Oh, it would be an interesting coffee sesh indeed.

--

What had originally been intentions to come outside casual and no muss, no fuss, turned into a black knit oversized sweater dress, thigh-high black velvet boot stilettos, and loose curls with a full face of sharp makeup. She looks like an insta model out in the light of day instead of in her cardboard box, but it is better this way: people don’t fuck with her.

They get their coffee downtown and walk out onto the sidewalk. She has class in 30 minutes, anyway. Ellinor is holding the flyer in her hand, though it’s bent outta shape from Olivia’s wrath.

“I don’t know, Liv. It is kind of concerning that they know where your dorm is. Isn’t that a hate crime if it’s targeting a member of a targeted group?”

“Biphobia getting treated as biphobia instead of ‘free speech’ discussing sexual behavior that both straights and gays sneer at? In this economy?” Olivia slips her own shades on and shoves the forsaken paper into her bag. “And besides, my dorm is easy to find out. All they’d need is one person to see me walking in, or one person who lives in the same hall as me.”

Ellinor slurps her hot matcha latte and hands it over to her, before pulling her aviator shades down from atop her head of a loose braid crown. She slides her arm through the second shoulder strap of her backpack.

Olivia is steeping. On the surface she looks straight up pissed, which is intentional. But deep down she’s nervous. This was more than she signed up for.

“What are you going to do then? It’s obvious this has to do with you hanging out with her. This is bullshit. if I was there when those punks came into the dorm, I would have shoved my timbs so far up their pastey Jesus mayo asses that….that...gah! Just really far, okay?” Ellinor grumbles and sips as they near the corner. She hasn’t had enough caffeine yet. 

Olivia veers to the left and punches the crosswalk button. She reaches into her back searching for her keys as she spots her black mini cooper parked on the curb a block from them.

“I don’t know what the fuck to do! I feel like I’ve become this Scarlet Letter for something I haven’t even done. It’d be different if we had actually, like...did stuff. But she is so prim and…” the crosswalk signals walk, and they push onward. “She goes from this super interested and focused person to hands-off and out the door faster than I can get my eyeliner wings to match.”

Olivia walks faster as Ellinor hones in on the passenger door facing the curb. “Woah that’s...that’s pretty fast.”

“You think?” Olivia faces her over the car hood as she hits the car alarm button, making the headlights flash. She unlocks fast and eyes both ends of the street for surveilling gazes before sliding in.

“At least with Cullen...” Olivia tries to keep her conversation going while settling in, tossing her bag over her head. She slides her key into the ignition and checks her mirror. Ellinor slides her drink into the center console and pulls her seat belt. She’ll need it -- Olivia has a love of driving, and that love translates into speed and mastery of a stick shift.

“At least with Cullen, what?” Ellinor replies, dreading it already.

Olivia bites her lip and eyes her. “You know...at least…” she slumps forward against her steering wheel. “At least you know what his intentions are...I mean, were, for you. He was pursuing you. He wanted to do...to do things with you.” Her tone has gotten less spirited and more melancholy. Enough for Ellinor’s initial defensive pouty face to melt into sympathy. Though, Olivia worries if it’s less sympathy and more soreness at being reminded of what she tossed up.

Dammit, Liv, she thinks to herself. Ellinor isn’t as tough as she plays.

“Well...I think she really does like you,” Ellinor comforts after a pause, her gregarious personality trying its best to rally.

Olivia twists the key to start. The engine grinds and then starts with ease, and she clutches the stick shift with her manicured hand covered in black, dramatic rings on almost every finger.

“I know she likes me. What I meant was, like...you know.”

“You said she asked if she had another...didn’t she call it a ‘shot’ or something?”

“Yeah, but, I don’t--”

“Liv, I don’t know anyone who would ask if they could be friends with someone by asking if they had another shot. Remember how we met?”

Olivia looks at her windshield and snorts. “Yeah. You asked if I had time to talk about our Lord and Savior Gerard Way at a freshman ice cream social of all fucking places. Then I sat on my retainer.”

“Hah,” Ellinor sits back, elbow on the door. “Exactly. Not ‘Do I have a shot?’”

Ellinor, in her particular brand of eloquence, has a point. Cassandra is one of the most intentional people Olivia has ever met. She doesn’t even sneeze out of line. And she doesn’t strike Olivia as the kind of person to sit idle while the things and the people she wants float on by. But, there’s something still hanging her up on it all. An unspeakable hesitancy that comes from having one foot in and one foot out the door.

“I just wish she like...did the thing.”

“Thing? What thing?”

Olivia pulls the car into gear and puts her hands on the wheel, staring out her side mirror for oncoming traffic. “You know, like, there’s a thing queer people do when they want to drop their queerness on the radar. Say you loved the new Hayley Kiyoko single, or...shit, like, you went to Pride last summer and had a blast. Something.”

“Cassandra Pentaghast at Pride? Even if she’s 1/24th lady-lover, dude, I doubt she’d be down.”

“Yeah because that’s how it works, Ellinor,” Olivia chuckles and pulls into the lane, clutches and shifts into gear again as she accelerates. “It’s just like...okay, you know what I mean. Something. Just a little tidbit. Like...letting me go home with a fleece sweatshirt.”

She only has to side-eye her once to see Ellinor’s cheeks go deep with blush, her lips rolling shut.

Olivia raises a brow and adjusts her large, round black sunglasses. “Mhm.”

“Look, I said what I said. It was cold.”

“Fine, fine. I’m only holding off on hounding you ‘cause I know you have to see him again. I can almost see his face watching you leave with it. Ugh, good shit.”

Ellinor slaps her on the arm before grabbing her drink. “It wasn’t like that, dammit.”

“Not when you were looking it wasn’t,” Olivia continues to tease in that sultry tone. “But…’as she walked off, her figure becoming shapeless in the dark and only traceable by lamp light, I knew that she took a piece of my with her...a piece, of fleece…’”

“GOD you are HORRIBLE!” Ellinor’s laugh gets louder the longer Olivia does her act. The ‘poetry recitation’ voice Olivia does is too good, too pure even in its mortification. She laughs, too, as they turn onto the boulevard which will take them directly to campus.

“You talk a good story for a cynic,” Ellinor settles down, resting her knee against the door. The woman can’t sit right in any chair to save her life.

Olivia smirks as she turns her signal on, the car arriving at the light before the campus entrance. “My Mom had those movies on all day when I was a kid, okay. I internalized that trash in between Blue’s Clues episodes.”

“Ugh, I forgot, my bad.”

They pull in and drive past all the pretty red brick building tops, and people walking with backpacks on the sidewalks or running with shorts and tanks on. Olivia notices a jogger weaving through the pairings of people walking to class and she remembers the way Cassandra looked on the soccer fields, back when she was just a tall, dark, and beautiful stranger she could pretend was all these things. Never could she have foreseen this all unfolding, but a part of her misses when it was all a mystery. When it was a mystery, she could believe that Cassandra was for sure into girls. Now, she is attached to finding out the truth, and the truth might not be so kind.

They pull up into one of the Blue parking lots and by some miracle, someone is pulling out in time for her to snag the spot. She turns in and puts it into park.

“Tits up, girl,” Ellinor sighs, grabbing for her things as Olivia turns the key back, the engine going quiet. They both adjust their bras on cue at her word.

“You’re hiding that fleece in your backpack, aren’t you?” Olivia eyes the bag, a little swollen in shape.

Ellinor glares at her. “No.”

“Ellinor,” Olivia giggles, as she pulls her drink up out of the cupholder. “You don’t want to give it back. Admit it.”

“I admit…!” she looks away for a moment and composes herself. “I...am not the owner of this garment, and I will not be keeping it. It was borrowed. I said I would give it to him during class.”

“Mhmm,” Olivia hums again, reaching for the door. Before she does, though, Ellinor is not done with her side of questioning.

“You gonna tell her what happened?”

“Why should I? What is she gonna do, challenge all the preps to a duel on quad? It’s not gonna change anything. Don’t tell Cullen, either. I’m gonna...handle it. It’ll be fine.”

Ellinor rolls her eyes. “Look, I’m not any of your horoscope apps, but the Cassandra I saw last night staring down a guy stick up for someone she barely knows, seems like the kind of person who’d like to know if people are messing with her girl.”

The phrase ‘her girl’ makes Olivia’s stomach erupt into butterflies, and she blushes and looks away towards her window. Thank goodness for giant sunglasses.

“This isn’t High School. I’m not ‘her girl,’ I’m her friend. And a friend who could quickly turn out to be more work than she wanted to deal with when she realizes all her peers want to burn her at the stake.”

“Over my dead body,” Ellinor says, before grabbing Olivia on her forearm as she tries to get out for the car. “Hey, I mean it. If it’s not Cass, it’s me grabbing a crowbar, alright? Just say when and where to aim.”

Olivia looks back at her and her lower lip curdles. “Aw, Ellinor…” she tilts her head, “you do have affectionate emotions….?”

Ellinor quickly scoffs and pushes her. Back to normal in an instant. They get out, and Olivia locks the door. Slinging her bag on her shoulder she looks around again, slightly paranoid despite her cool exterior. No pastel polo shirts and no french braid pigtails. No woman in a black long-sleeve with pants and a pixie cut. For once, she’s relieved on both fronts, and walks with Ellinor down the way towards their respective lecture halls.

On the way, OIivia elbows her in the shoulder, a sly smile on her black lips. “Thanks, babe.”

--

Later that day --

-- Hey, you didn’t say whether you’d come with to the gala next weekend. I need confirmation!!

-- Ellinor: I can, but I’m not going to! You already have someone who can go!

-- That is the opposite of what I have! I’m not inviting her. Ughhh don’t do this to me I’ll cry.

-- Ellinor: [Kim Kardashian Tragic GIF]

-- You’re the worst. How did Cullen act when you gave back the sweater?

✓ READ AT 4:12PM

If she weren’t in the library, she would have screeched like a harpie. As it was, she was not in the place or the time to do so, so her catharsis would have to wait. She shoved her phone in her bra and goes back to collecting her arms worth of books. They aren’t for her this time -- a Professor she’s TA-ing for wanted to scan and make copies of chapters for students, and asked her to do it while they...well, do Professor things.

Such as TA’s did, and Liv being a TA as a third year undergrad was an esteemed vote of confidence she did not shirk.

She comes around the aisle she’s in and decides to cut through to the stairwell. She’s down two floors from the ground level where the checkout desk is, a level that separates the boys from the men in terms of archival dedication. She balances the six or so books of varying densities, wondering how close they are to weighing the same as her.

Around another corner and she comes upon a cluster of single-seat study desks -- you know, the kind that only libraries have, with soft wood and worn out, grey-blue upholstery. A couple heads bob up from their stationed spots at them and she pays them no mind. That is, until she sees a blonde head. Blonde, wavy head.

“C...Cullen?” she says, and is promptly shh’d by someone else. Cullen himself looks up from his desk and laptop, and grins.

“Oliv--” another shh, and he gives them a pointed stare of come on man, before pushing his chair back. “How you been?”

She bobs from foot to foot carrying the stack in both her hands. “Uh, good! Good, just, doing some TA work.”

“Oh, nice. Cassandra mentioned you TA for Professor...uh, their name esca--”

“Erickson. Professor Erickson,” she smiles. “Just for the intro to political and economic theory classes. It’s not a big thing.”  It was and is a big deal. The Political Science department has a huge group of grad students who could TA or assist courses, and they often do. Taking in an undergrad for a TA position meant that undergrad could do the work they did with Bachelor’s degrees, and sometimes even Master’s degrees, under their belt. Her parents didn’t stop talking about it like that for a month after she was invited by Erickson to fill the position. Though, they made it more pompous-sounding than she would have liked.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know. Cassandra is the only other undergrad I know who TA’s.”

“She...she TA’s?”

He looks at her and his brows go together. In a sort of, ‘yeah, of course’ kind of way. Like she was supposed to know that.

“Uh, yeah! In Philosophy, I think.” Figures. The woman breathes and spews philosophy and english lit fervor like Shakespeare has used her for a horcrux. It’s...annoying. And...wonderful.

“Ah, yeah, I think she mentioned that,” she lies, and tucks hair behind her ear while balancing the stack nervously in the other arm.

“You uh, you need help with that?” he gestures to get up, but she shakes her head vehemently.

“No, no,” she replies, smiling again. “It’s fine. I need the conditioning for dance, anyways. How is your group project going?”

He grins and looks back to his desk, blinking fast. He shouldn’t have to say, she already knows. But, it’s the kindness that counts. “Oh, yeah, it’s going good. Group projects, you know. They...they are what they are.”

“Yeah, but, at least it’s with Ellinor right? It’s always better with…” she catches herself, bits her smiling lip, and looks away too. Damn, didn’t think that one through.

“It’s better with people you know, right, I gotcha,” he finishes and puts her out of her misery. He’s a good guy -- he doesn’t let anyone hang out on a limb by themselves, even if he’s a bit awkward in his solidarity. It’s easy being in his presence despite the underlying melancholy.

“Yeah, right! Sorry, my head is fried from today. Look, don’t be a stranger. Come by anytime.” she sounds like she has a house with a picket fence and not a hole-in-the-wall dorm room. The olive branch didn’t fit the ecosystem.

He smiles crookedly and nods. “For sure. Yeah. You have a safe walk back with those books.”

“Oh you know, what’s a fall down some stairs?”

He chuckles and waves his hand casually. “Whatever you say.”

She waves back and sees herself off. A couple yards away from him and she spots the staircase, she reaches in her shoulder bag while keeping her eyes on the sign that says “TO LEVEL B,” feeling for her phone and attached headphones. The papers and pack of gum get shoved in and out, and the smooth plastic of her case finally turns up. She yanks it out before the stack of books in her hand fall apart. The sound and sensation of something falling behind her to the ground pries at the back of her head, but she ignores it -- the books are heavy, and the stairs are gonna be a pain in the ass, and that pain will pale in comparison to copying individual chapters 40 copies each.

She reaches the checkout desk after a grueling journey up two flights and through another plethora of shelf rows. While catching her breath against the desk, she checks her phone. A new message sent 15 minutes prior.

Cassandra: Hey. I’m going to be grading practice midterms Friday afternoon at my TA office in Henderson Hall. I thought maybe you would have a similar workload? Want to keep each other company?

Keep each other company. How sexy. Had she said she TA’d, and Olivia just never caught that detail? That would have been something she’d remember. Oh, wait, they were talking about course-loads at one point during a walk to classes...oh, shit, that was the day Cassandra wore a blazer and took it off as she was walking and was so smooth while doing so and...and...oh. God, Olivia is too bisexual to function.

She looks up and scans the room, her gaze out of focus while she thinks. No, she has no reason to! She can deny her this once, what, does she come at her beck and call now? She has no work to do anyw--

Her email ding goes off. It’s Professor Erickson:

Hi Olivia,

My mother is in the hospital and we are heading out of town to see her. I know it’s short notice, but could you grade the stack of bibliographies in my inbox before Monday and hand them out on that day’s class? I promised the students. Just markup for Chicago style and make sure they have the 3 required sources and 2 outside, and nothing looks iffy. I’m going to cancel Friday’s class.

I might be out until middle of next week. Monday is just a hand-back day, so don’t worry about keeping them entertained after they get their work. Play a movie, maybe. Nothing too radically bootlegged, please.

Don’t worry about the chapter copies. Those aren’t needed until next Wednesday, and if you can’t get to them I will finish what you don’t. Good job today by the way explaining to that one student the difference between socialism and democratic-socialism. You are getting more concise!

Thanks!

E

Sent from my Iphone

Professors. The nerve. They emailed on phones even when it was a long-ass message, and yet threw fits when students didn’t title their emails with anything less than an oath to name their firstborn child after them. Erickson wasn’t that bad, though. A fun guy -- a bit too into loafers -- but a fun guy, and amazing Professor. And she was getting paid, which helped.

She rolls her eyes closed and groans so deep the poor library work study student flinches. She looks at them apologetically before turning her attention back to her phone.

-- Hey. Sure, but I can’t stay very long. What time?

Cassandra: Cool, no worries. Say around 6?

-- Yeah, that works. Henderson is that long building by bio sciences, right?

Cassandra: Actually, it’s the one to the left of quad. Big archway entrance. I’ll be at my desk in 10E.

Olivia sighs. Great, a big building on quad. In front of everyone. Open season continues for her. 6:00pm on a Friday? Why that time? Surely if they were exams they were not going to be handed back over the weekend. Did Cassandra have a life that wasn’t work, sport, and more work?

-- Right, I forgot. Whoops. Okay, see you then!

Cassandra: Awesome. See you. 

Cassandra: Oh, also -- this song came up on my shuffle. It’s an old one, but it’s Adele. I would appreciate if you listened to it. I think you’d like it.

Another chance for a ‘sign’ thwarted. As promised, she sends the link to a song and it is, in fact, Adele. Adele. Olivia pouts to herself. Adele is a beautiful singer, but her songs tend to sound the same to her sometimes. One of those ‘you listen to one, you listen to them all,’ kinda deals. The song is entitled “Water Under The Bridge.” Olivia had hoped it would at least be one of the romantic ones, but it hardly sounds like a profession of love or crushing. Her frustration continues to grow in her mind, and she clicks her phone to lock. 

“Alright, Ma’am, that’s it! They’re due back October 7th!” The woman on the other side of the table shoves the plastic bag of books. What a blessing to have them in a bag. She smiles, says thanks, and heads out the door into the open air of dusk. As she walks back to Jefferson Hall a few minutes away, she can’t help but look over her shoulder ever so often, hand clutching her keys in her bag. But, no one approaches or even appears, and as she gets in the door to her own academic building, it feels like it’s all in her head.

It’ll blow over. No big deal. Just have to pretend it doesn’t bother me.

She gets into the elevator and hits the #3. Thankfully, she, too, has an office to hull up in.

#update #college au #adventures of ellinor and olivia #ellinor trevelyan #olivia sinclair #modern!olivia #cullen rutherford #cassandra pentaghast #thedas modern au #GOD THIS IS JUST AHHHHHH #OLIVIA STOP BEING SO DIFFICULT #DAMMIT #ALSO ADELE IS AMAZING WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU #THIS IS NOT HOW I RAISED YOU

[theallamericangirl-blog]

Teaching Assistant (3)

Chapter 3: Don’t be Disrespectful! 

Ch 2: here

Alfred didn’t know what to expect from tutoring with Ivan, but it has, so far, been the second most uncomfortable experience of his life, only coming second to the time two girls he slept with (on multiple occasions each) found out he was seeing both of them. And they were sorority sisters. He was quite thoroughly smacked by the two of them and banned from any even that sorority held. But, in his defense, he didn’t say they were exclusive. Girls, tsk, so picky with their emotions. It’s one of the reasons Alfred found out he’s gay, gay, gay. 

That, and he finds the male physique extremely appealing. Like, Chris Hemsworth? A fine piece of ass. 

Alfred blinks, snapping out of his tumbling thoughts and stares across the table at Ivan, who is currently glaring at Alfred with his deep-indigo eyes. That, the intense, angry glaring, is what  is making this so uncomfortable, Alfred thinks, glaring right back.

“What did I do wrong now?” Ivan had been looking over the practice problems Alfred had to do when the blonde had started to zone out. 

“The answer to everything is not E=mc2, Jones. In fact, we haven’t even gone over Einstein’s Theory of Special Relativity in class.” If possible, the teaching assistant’s eyes narrow even more, “Do you even listen to Dr. Arlovskaya in class?”

“Hey, I totally put down Fermi’s Paradox for one answer!” Alfred declares, ignoring Ivan’s question because no, he doesn’t pay attention to Dr. Arlovskaya, but it’s because he can’t understand her accent. 

“This isn’t astronomy; Fermi’s Paradox is irrelevant!” Ivan throws his hands in frustration. “Why ask for help when you won’t even put in the effort?”

Alfred is mildly impressed that Ivan knows about Fermi’s Paradox, but he doesn’t let it show. Though a poly-sci major, Alfred has always adored astronomy. It’s just the, well, physics that made him not pursue it. As well as other things, like his love for debate. “Maybe Physics 101 shouldn’t be so hard! If I’m struggling, I can’t even imagine what the poor frosh are going through.”

“Maybe if you put in an effort you wouldn’t be struggling.” Ivan retorts.

Alfred’s done trying to smooze his way to a good grade with this guy. If he’s being honest with himself, he stopped trying on the first day of class. There’s something about Braginsky that has Alfred’s blood boiling. “If you weren’t such a stuck-up PhD student who thinks they’re better than everyone else, maybe I’d actually learn a thing or two in lab, where, y’know, you’re supposed to help struggling students like me!”

Ivan crosses his arms, seeming to have relaxed enough to look smug, “I may be a tough grader, Jones, but I am fair. Perhaps if you stopped relying on your lab partner for everything and put in your own effort then I would meet you half-way.”

“I do not rely on Michelle! We’re a team-effort.” Alfred stutters, insulted that someone would accuse him of being a free-loader (his brother might agree that he is indeed one, but Alfred would go to the grave before that became his reputation), “And I did put in an effort. I asked you to tutor me and instead you’re yelling at me!”

Ivan smiles and starts to pack up his things, “I do not believe I am the one yelling, Jones. Good luck in class; my email is available for any questions. Aside from that, our tutoring session is over.”

Before Alfred can even get a word in, Ivan slinks off into the crowd of student.

He is left feeling frustrated and heated.

--

“He should be fired, or failed, or however TA’s are let go.” Alfred growls, pacing back in forth in his brother’s room. 

Matthew sits on his bed, laptop open, not even glancing at Alfred. “I know, Al, you’ve been talking about it for the past half-hour, even though I told you I have a psychology exam to study for.”

Alfred looks at him crossly, “But I’m having a crisis!”

This garners Matthew’s attention. Alfred’s twin looks unamused, his lips pursed into a frown, “Actually, Alfred, you’re not. I think ‘Braginsky’ had the right to stop tutoring you.”

“Matt-”

“No, let me finish. I know you’re used to floating by in your poly-sci classes, but that’s because it’s something you’re naturally good at; you’ve never had to try hard in it. But physics, something you’ve never done? It’s going to be unfamiliar and require work, but you refuse to put in the time to do well and still expect good marks.

It’s no wonder your teaching assistant is getting frustrated. You’re crapping on the subject he’s worked so hard in!” Matthew’s rant concludes, and he’s a bit breathless, but his eyes are still sharp and don’t leave Alfred’s face.

“...You’re just saying that because you were a TA! All TA’s are the same, even my own brother!” Alfred cries out, rushing out of the room so Matthew can avoid seeing how red Alfred’s face had become. 

His brother raises some good points and for once Alfred feels guilty about trying to coast by. 

He owes Ivan an apology. Disregarding his “no-smoozing for jerk Braginsky” rule, he decides he should kiss ass some more.

--

Alfred shows up at Ivan’s office hours the next day, right as they start. He knocks, waiting politely until Ivan says he can come in. 

A look of surprise flashes across the teaching assistant’s face, but is quickly hidden away. Ivan’s good at putting on a face, his eerie yet professional smile. It reminds Alfred of a politician’s grin when greeting a crowd, but in an awkward, lesser scale. 

“Mr. Jones, what brings you by my office this morning? Come to tell me how unfair I am yet again?” Ivan mocks, and Alfred begins to feel a bit hot under the collar. Maybe he shouldn’t apologize to this prick after all.

However, he collects himself. He let his emotions get in the way yesterday, but today he will reel them in. He smiles, again his mega-watt smile. His smooze smile. “Mr. Braginsky,” the full name, not typically reserved for teaching assistants, but thus far he’s never called Ivan much of anything when addressing him, so Alfred thinks the formality will go a long way, “I came to apologize for my actions.”

Ivan raises an eyebrow, but he leans forward slightly, which encourages Alfred to continue. Alfred loves keeping people’s attention.

“I haven’t been giving this class my full attention, but I promise that, going forward, I will give it the respect it deserves.”

Alfred finishes his short, yet surprisingly meaningful apology and nods, turning to depart.

“Jones, meet me at Ponion tomorrow at 5. I will... continue to help you.”

“Thank you, Mr. B!” Alfred smiles, knowing he’s won, “I won’t disappoint this time.” 

“It’s Ivan, Jones. This flattery won’t work again.” The TA promises, looking amused, and Alfred knows that no, he hadn’t won, but that he was played.

Physics 101 has become a game, and it’s Alfred versus Ivan.

Let it be known that I know 0 things about physics and took one semester of astronomy.

#rusame #aph america #aph russia #university au #college au #hetalia #fanfiction #myfic

[00412]

What it means to be a lesbian

AGE 4- We played house in front of my actual house in the bushes.  It was me, girl J, boy J, and C.  boy j begged me to kiss him and I just didn’t want to.  I wasn’t opposed to kissing girl J though.

AGE 4- My cousin makes friends with a girl named Nivea.  I think she is beautiful and it makes me feel very good when she compliments me

AGE 5- Kindergarten!!! I make friends with a lot of girls in my grade! Including one named L!  I’m obsessed with a 6th grader named Erica.  She’s friends with one of my cousins.  I love when she lets me sit next to them.  She even invited me over to their teen sleepover!  I leave because I’m scared of her dog.

AGE 5- My first real boy crush! Edwin... then Blake.  They have nice eyes and lips.  I could never tell them

AGE 6-Martin... Phoenix.  I really like boys I swear, I could never let them find out, but eventually they did.  Alexandria told, and she never spoke to me again.  Neither did the boys

AGE 6-I made friends with the kids of my parents friends.  Often when I went to visit or they visited me we would kiss and it ended up in some kind of sexual activity.  There was T,then R... Then M... the list goes on... Really.

AGE 6- Me and L sleepover each others houses.  We love to take bubble baths together and touch each other.  Our favorite is cuddling while watching movies.  Sometimes we practiced touching each other.

AGE 7- Ray...no Reynold.  He likes you too!  You even write his name in clay all over your bedroom wall.  Your parents beat you and made you wash it off though.  You called him once.

AGE 8-  My first real boyfriend!! Jay and you are REALLY in love... like REALLY in love.  You play and kiss at school all the time.  You even had “sex” with him.  You think your pregnant! Your parents ban you from seeing him.

AGE 8- Happy Birthday! You basically had threesome with A,L, and girl J.  You wonder why you stopped thinking about your boyfriend so much when your with your friends

AGE 9- Akida.  You guys become best friends.  GTA, Shrek and Ramen noodles were our best friends.  We made out a lot after 4 o clock.  Why didn’t I call my boyfriend

AGE 9- Ruthie.  You guys are best best friends.  You never do anything sexual, but you love to hang out with each other.  Paint each others nails, do each others hair, take trips and pictures together... friendship

AGE 10-Ruthie isn’t home but her sister is.  You play with her until she gets back.  She has a warm smile and you talk in her room.  She pushes you in the closet and you start making out.  She pulls down your pants and, unknowingly you’re having sex.  It feels really good.  You never felt this before.  When she stops your confused.  She kisses you again.  You leave before Ruthie gets back.  

AGE 10-  She’s not home again.  Her sister is of course. We do it again.  It feels even better.  Her brother opens the closet.  He threatens to tell their mom.  I leave very confused.  

AGE 10- Her sister keeps trying to pull me away to do it.  I don’t want to get in trouble.  I don’t want her to get in trouble.  I liked every moment.  We’re too young.  She doesn’t speak to me.

AGE 11- Where is my boyfriend? We’ve been together for 3 years now and I only see him at school.  We kiss a lot and they separate our classes.  We don’t really call each other anymore.  I forget about him on the weekend.  Why do I always do that?  Most of my girl friends hate me.  We sneak to talk on the phone.  I made friends at dance class.

AGE 12- Middle school!!!! Your boyfriend doesn’t talk to you anymore.  You don’t know why.  You meet a lot of nice girls at dance class.  They smell nice even though they’re sweaty. You want to be like them.  You especially love to watch their bodies move while their dancing.  You make one friend in particular.  Her name is N.  She’s loud, crazy, and fun.  

AGE 12-  You have your first sleepover at N’s house.  You’re cuddling little do you realize.  Her mother comes in and says friends shouldn’t cuddle like that.

AGE 13- N’s your best friend.  You guys go to the same school!  You like to hold hands and cuddle a lot.  She starts to go through puberty.  You already did so you know what happens, but you can’t stop staring at her. You guys like to talk about boys and getting her a boyfriend.

AGE 13- Andrew.  He was your first middle school boyfriend.  Biked all the way to your new house to see you.  For some reason he never wanted to kiss you.  He moves away in two weeks.

AGE 13-Shaq.  He’s an older boy and knows what he wants.  Sometimes after he breaks up with you he throws you up against a wall and starts making out with you.  You think it’s mature, and he’s experienced.  It kind of scares you.  You don’t want it to go any further.  His breath smells.

AGE 13- V- A boy your age!!! He really likes you! and you like him too!  He’s really immature to you though but he likes to make out.  You don’t like his breath or his smell but you like to play in his hair.  You guys tell funny jokes.  He cheats on you with your best friend but you don’t care.

AGE 13- P- you guys become friends too!   You hang out with the older crowd, you have cool hobbies, you go to parties, and you didn’t even need drugs to have that much fun because you made the party.  You could almost like her, if only N wasn’t jealous of your friendship.  You find out she slept with V and pretend it hurts more than the crush.

AGE 14-You and N are at an all time high of affection.  People at school start to notice.  Are you gay?

AGE 14-N told me what gay was.  I never knew what it meant to be attracted to the same sex, but I knew how it felt.  I guess I like girls?

AGE 14- T.  We went to elementary school together and he always liked me.  P2 liked him too.  I went to his house and made out with him.  I caught the bus home and never spoke to him again.

AGE 14- Why do I watch girls bodies dancing all the time?  Why do I like to see girls naked?  Why do I anticipate cuddling or touching my friends?  Why do I always forget about the boys that I liked.  Mom always said I was boy crazy.  Why is it so easy to forget them when I’m with my friends?  Why do I stare at the beautiful girl on the bus every day?  Why do I know every picture this girl has posted.  Why do I stare at girls pictures so much?  I like their style.  I want to be like them.  Why do I think about kissing her?

AGE 14- “I think I like girls”. At least that’s what I told my mother.  Her response; “no you don’t”

AGE 14- P likes D.  She says as a friend so I develop a crush.  He’s very passive, no chalant, cool guy.  He never cares about any of my romantic advances, but he’s great to talk to online.  We kiss each other but he doesn’t want more to our friendship.  Reluctantly I accept.

AGE 14- N convinces me to try dating a girl.  Her name is Q.  She’s hilarious, intelligent, quickwitted, and very pretty.  We never see each other out of school really, but she called me every day.  We would talk for hours.  I felt very connected.   She wanted to kiss me on Valentines Day.  She told me I didn’t know how to kiss and broke up with me shortly after.  She still loved her ex and I missed D... or maybe I just wanted attention... or both.

AGE 14- D and i talk all the time online but barely see each other.  His family loves me.  He talks to other people about my business.  He says I’m a crazy stalker. He never told me to my face.

AGE 14- I make friends with his friends, especially one named K.  We talk about how much of a jerk D can be.  He understands, and cares... My first real guy friend.

AGE 15- D and I are upset with each other on and off.  We liked each other in privacy.  I never had sex before... at least with a boy at the time.  It’s summer time and I paid him a visit.  Without much lead up we try to have sex.  We kiss until our clothes are off and when he pulls it out I’m very dry.  I tried to put it in but, nothing.  We lay in bed together.

AGE 16-  You’re bi?  No pan. No, lesbian?  Idk, you still get crushes on guys but most you would never pursue.  The daydreams about girls are stronger.  You try dating more girls.  

AGE 16-  You date a girl named C.  She’s not out yet but you don’t know that.  She’s really nice and you guys bond a lot outside of school.  Mostly at her house when her parents aren’t home.  Your mom doesn’t really care for her too much, and isn’t exactly non vocal about it.  She never breaks up with you know when it’s over.

AGE 17- I think I’m gay.  Boys are just objectively attractive.  Maybe, if the right boy were to come by you might try it 

AGE 17- College.  You crush on a girl, she rejects you and tells you she isn’t interested in women at all.

AGE 17- Remember K?  The friend you confided in? You really like his company, but you also notice something different.  He likes you... a lot.  He puts his hand in the chair.  You’re uncomfortable to sit but he’s nice.  Is he the right boy?

AGE 17- It’s been almost 2 years since you’ve kissed someone. He likes you and you like him too, at least you think.  You guys kiss and while your body is reacting your mind is not following

AGE 17- You and K start dating!  Your friendship means a lot to each other, and that’s how relationships start right?  He wants to have sex a lot, but you’re just not comfortable. All the signs add up, he likes you, you don’t hate kissing him, but something just doesn’t feel right.  After week 3 you finally give in.  It’s not bad but it’s not good.  Is this what the first time is like?

AGE 17- The more you think about him, the more uncomfortable you get with your relationship.  Do you like when your lips touch? He’s your friend.   Do you like the way he feels?  This is the right thing to do. Does the sex make you feel something? Are you moving too fast?  Maybe you’re not ready for a relationship.  It’s only been a month.  You call it off.  Maybe you just need to focus on school, BUT YOU GUYS ARE STILL FRIENDS NO MATTER WHAT.

AGE 18- Happy Birthday! First tattoo! First night out at the club!  Remember that crush?  She kissed you goodnight.  You’re happy but confused.

AGE 18-  You guys start dating.  You finally gain the courage to tell K.  He is very upset.  He needs some space.  You understand.  He stops talking to you for a few months.  

AGE 18- Things are going great!  You guys really like each other, hanging out with each other, but something doesn’t feel right.  K calls from time to time, you usually don’t leave without feeling guilty.  Your mom doesn’t like your crush.  She wants you to move.  You try but your car breaks down.  All the money for the deposit now goes to the car.

AGE 18- She’s not over an ex.  She’s not out to her family. You’re no longer intimate. K keeps calling.  You miss his friendship.  He misses you.

AGE 18- It’s summer and hot. You vent to K.  He misses you.  You tell him you want friendship.  He lays his hand on your thigh.  You start to cry.  He wants to get back together.  You don’t know what you want

AGE 18-You last for 6 months.  

AGE 18-You tell K what happened.  He listens.  You’re lonely.  He listens. He’s there.  Maybe he is the one?  You cry while sucking his dick

AGE 18- ATTENTION; It’s been 6 months since your break up with your ex gf.  You guys have casual sex.  It’s been a while that you’ve felt wanted.  You are wanted.  Maybe you do like him?  You want to be in a relationship.  He needs time to trust you again.  In the meantime use your body.

AGE 19- You’re back together again!!! Things are going great! You’re happy! Someone likes you and you’re more than over your ex. Someone asks your sexual orientation, who are you again? Let’s try queer.

AGE 19- You can only think about girls when you masturbate.  He asks what you would do to a girl that you couldn’t do to him.  It’s not the same.

AGE 19- Sex.  You’re definitely having more of it but what are you not enjoying?  Is it his penis?  Too big too small? Does he not know how to pleasure you?  Fingers too big?  Is it the birth control?  This is starting to look a lot more like high school.

AGE 20-  Why do you cry every time you guys have sex but you can make yourself cum six times in one session.  Why do you feel disgusted every time he cums on the floor, in your mouth?  Why do hate the smell of his sweat? His cuddles?  Why do you avoid and agonize every time he wants to initiate sex?  Why do you keep thinking about N?  Why do you keep thinking about the cashier from two weeks ago?

AGE 20- It’s August. You don’t know what’s different than last August but you’re just not the same.  Awakening.  It’s been 3 months since the last time you had sex and before then, it was rare.  It’s time.

AGE 20- You tell him you don’t want to do it anymore.  He admits to cheating on you with another girl.  It didn’t matter though because you planned on calling it off anyway.  He still wants a fwb.  You just want to be done.  He wants to still have a sexual connection.  You say maybe so he stops, but never again is the real answer.

AGE 20-You’re gay. Not bi. Not pan. Not queer.  Just a lesbian.  It’s refreshing.  You haven’t felt this pure since you were 13.

AGE 20- Remember that girl, N?  Well you guys have sex and the answers begin to unfold. The truth has always been there but you begin to understand it.  You are now vulnerable.  You know what it means to love.  You know what it means to hate.  You know what it truly means to be gay, but even more a time and a place for things.  

AGE 21- You meet a girl again.  You’ve always known each other but you move from a distance.  You went to elementary school together, in fact you reminded her she dated your ex K.  None of that matters though because your eyes are on her, and hers on you.  She has 3 days left before she moves to Florida.  Why not?

AGE 22-It’s been almost a year since you’ve been together.  You have your own apartment.  A kitty.  Things make sense.  Things are clear.  Her lips sunkiss you and the burn lasts long after she leaves.  She brings the truth in you every day.  She teaches you what it means to love; honestly, openly, truthfully.  She makes you proud and confident in the person you are and the being your becoming.  More than anything she moves you in a way your four year old self only daydreamed about.

#lesbian #coming out #what it means to be gay #gay #lgbt #qwoc #qpoc #long post #black lgbt #queer #bisexual #pansexual #dyke #coercive heteronormativity #compulsory heteronormativity

[joongie-smiles]

The Phone Never Rings

This is not a one-shot, just a little something inspired by the lines “I wait by the phone but the phone never rings” from “Campfire song” from the Lightning Theif Musical, which is absolutely amazing. 

Warnings: Angst, cursing, character death, neglect

Masterlist

Request

Tag

A little boy with fair hair kicked his feet up and down as he swung from the swing. The park he was in was practically deserted save for a couple walking a dog with their son, and the woman in front of him. She was beaming at him and her eyes held only kindness and love. She was wearing a big yellow hat that looked obnoxious against her purple dress, but he had insisted on her wearing his favorite hat, and she  had complied. It was his birthday, after all.

"Okay, I think we've been here long enough, don't you, Sweetie?" his mom asked. "Why don't we go get some ice cream?"

Normally, he would have said yes, but he was waiting for something. He had refrained from asking, but he was getting impatient. He shook his head sheepishly. "Can I . . . can I call him?"

She hesitated. She knew this question would come, it always did. He had been asking for 5 years without fail. She had tried to get him to forget this time with a trip to the park, presents, and ice cream, but it was useless. Even at 5 he was stubborn. "I don't know, Luke, maybe later-"

"Please," he whispered. "Just once then we can go."

She nodded and smiled softly, but the smile didn't reach her eyes like they usually do. "Okay." She gently stopped the swing and pulled her phone out. After looking through her contacts, she passed the phone over to Luke, who waited patiently for the ringing to end.

Eventually the ringing did stop, but instead of a voice answering on the other end -he wasn't sure what it would sound like but it would definitely be loving- he was meet with the all too familiar robotic voice of a woman telling him to leave a message after the beep. Luke forced his own smile and left his message. "Hey, Daddy, it's me, Luke. Um, I know you're really busy with work and . . . stuff, but, um, I just wanted to say that today's my birthday and I'm wishing for something special this year. Mommy says I can't tell anyone or it won't come true, but I'll give you a clue, it has to do with you. Mommy got me a cool plane and I'll tell you all about it if you call back. Bye, I love you, Daddy."

He hung up the phone and gave it back to his mom.

"Ready to go?" his mom asked.

Luke nodded silently, took her hand, and followed her back to the car. He looked out the window at the family with the dog and couldn't help but sigh. He tried to keep his disappointment from showing, he really did, but it was hard. It wasn't fair that some little boys got a dad or even two dads, but he couldn't even have one. He loved his mom more than anything in the world, but he missed his dad. But, like his mom always told him, no matter how far away his dad may be, he stilled loved Luke.

Luke just wished he'd show it a little more.

--

"Happy Birthday to Lu-uke! Happy birthday to you!" the crowd around the dining room table sang.

Luke, who sat at the head of the table, smiled and, when prompted to, blew out the candles. The crowd cheered and prompted him to stay still for pictures. His mom came around the table to stand at his side and started cutting the cake after taking the candles shaped in the number 1 and 0. He got the first and biggest piece and happily ate it while everyone else was given a piece. The rest of the night was spent with more congratulations and presents. Eventually, everyone left and Luke and his mom were left to clean up. Not many people had gone, so the cleaning was pretty quick. Luke was in his pajamas and in bed by 10:30 pm.

His mom stood above him and smiled down at him. "Another successful birthday?"

Luke grinned. "Another successful birthday," he confirmed.

"Sorry about Grandpa not making it, I know he promised to take you fishing," she said apologetically. She ruffled his fair hair lovingly.

Luke shrugged. "It's okay, I'm kind of used to someone missing my birthdays." He tried to say it nonchalantly, but it came out more bitter than he wanted it to.

She sighed. "Luke-"

"I know, I know," Luke interrupted. "He loves me, and he's a busy man, but can't he love me and show up? At least on my birthdays?"

"I'm sorry, Honey, I know that it's . . . not ideal, but," she stopped and closed her eyes for a moment. It was then that Luke remembered that it hurt her just as much as it hurt him. She took a shaky breath and continued. "But this is what we have, and we have to make the best of it."

Luke sighed and nodded. She was right. Their family situation might not be ideal, but they could work with it. He loved his mom and would allow her to be mother and father for him.

This would be enough. For now.

--

"It was him!" a large boy yelled. He pointed a finger at a scrawny 13 year Luke Castellan. "He's the one who stole my phone!"

"No I didn't," Luke scowled. "It's not my fault you can't take care of your things."

"Well, you steal everything else, how do I know you didn't take this too?" Behind the bully, Steven Bake, was a group of students who had formed a crowd, ready for the fight that might start between the 7th and 8th grader.

"You have no proof," Luke pointed out. "Apparently even that isn't obvious enough for you."

Steve's face started getting redder by the minute. He bared his yellow teeth at Luke and stood taller to look more intimidating, but Luke wasn't scared. He had dealt with bullies before. He was prepared to dodge the fists.

But he wasn't prepared to dodge the words.

"You're a no good thief, just like your deadbeat Dad," Steve spat. "No wonder he hit the road and never looked back."

Luke blinked in shock. Yeah, it was common knowledge that his Dad wasn't around, but nobody had really brought it up before, especially not at school.

"You probably never even talked to him before," Steve laughed harshly.

The shock was quickly replaced with anger. "Yes, I have!" Luke shouted. "I talk to him all the time." It might have been a lie, but it's not like they would ever find out. Anyway, his anger was clouding his reasoning.

"Oh, yeah? Then prove it." Steve fished his phone that had been allegedly missing and held it out. "Call him," he said.

This was the 2nd time today Steven had surprised him. Luke knew he was a jerk but even this was low. "He's-he's probably busy with something or-"

"Or you're a thief and a liar," Steve said smugly.

Luke surrendered and took the phone from his hand. It was half his fault for lying about it, now he had no choice but to follow through. He dialed the phone number he had memorized a long time ago. Upon Steve's harsh insistence, he put it on speaker and waited.

If there's anyone up there please, please, please let him answer. Dad if there was ever a time for you to answer the phone it's now. I've never stopped believing in you. Just, please, do this for me.

He waited and waited until the ringing stopped. Luke held his breath as the pause went on longer than it usually would for a message. Maybe it had happened. Maybe by some miracle, his dad would finally answer.

But, unfortunately, miracles weren't ever in Luke's favor. The dreaded robotic voice told him to leave a message after the beep.

Luke didn't wait for the standard message to end before dropping the phone and running from the laughing crowd

--

Luke stared at the phone on the table and willed it to ring. This room, unlike the rest of the rooms in the Big House, was mostly empty except for the desk, phone, and chair in front of them. Since it held the only available phone in Camp, the room was rarely used except for emergencies. Not only was it a direct connection to the mortal world, it was also a direct connection to Olympus. Usually someone here would be calling the gods, but this time Luke was waiting for a certain messenger god to call.

Luke had been at Camp Half-blood for a couple days now. The journey had been tough and he had lost a good friends, but now he finally had the chance to get some answers. Why didn't you come for me? Why didn't you claim me sooner? Why did you leave us to fend for ourselves?

Why did you do that to Mom?

That was the million dollar question. Why did Hermes, who apparently loved his mom enough to tell her that he was a god, make his mom crazy? One morning she was helping him pick his classes for the next school year, and the next she was locking them in the house and insisting Luke never leave the house because monsters were out to get him. Luke had been terrified of this new person who definitely wasn't his mom, so he left. And now he wanted answers from the man who did that.

Not man, god. A god who was his dad and apparently didn't see the need to fix what he had done.

A deadbeat god who couldn't even have the decency to apologize for what he did.

A coward who couldn't even pick up the damn phone and call Luke for a simple 'hi'.

Luke got up abruptly from his chair and glared at the phone with watery eyes. "Screw you too, Dad," he spat. He left the room with his head held high and his resolve set.

He would make him regret neglecting him.

--

"Group 1 goes to the east end, group 2 to the west end, and you, make sure the archers are in place," Luke said, pointing to the teams as he called them. "Got that?"

"Yes, sir!" his makeshift army confirmed.

"Then go." Once his troops were gone, Luke double-checked the maps around him of Manhattan. The final battle had begun and everything was going according to plan. All accept one thing.

The damned phone.

A simple phone like the one that had been at Camp sat at the front steps of the Olympian thrones. He had expected the opposing demigods to try to contact him, that seemed like something Chiron would do, but it appeared to not have been put there by the half-bloods. That only left the gods.

Now would be a good time for the gods to try to reason with him or plead with him to not destroy them. But that wasn't their style. Zeus would rather give up his lightning bolts than admit that he was wrong and a rebellious teen half-blood was right. He wouldn't give Luke that satisfaction.

Still, he waited. He waited for Zeus' apology or even a phone call from his Dad. Funny how you can't get any attention from your parents till you're destroying their parthenon.

But Luke had very low hopes, so when the phone never rang, he wasn't that surprised, but he was still disappointed. Deadbeat dad till the end, huh. He left the throne room and forgot about the phone.

It wasn't till he was back in the throne room fighting Percy that he even remembered the phone. When he was stabbed, he crumpled close to the phone and thought bitterly I started by the phone and it's only fitting I end by the phone. While he bled out in his friends' arms, a sound cleared his fuzzy mind for a moment.

The unmistakable sound of a ringing phone.

#heroes of olympus #luke castellan

[tandytoaster]

Things that happened at my elementary school

- an official trail was made through the woods on the property. A year later we were banned from using the trail and now I don't think it exists anymore - we got benches on the playground. They have been removed and brought back several times - a swing set got removed because a girl fell off of them - the school gave us new pavement activities like a clock and some four square tiles painted on. We got banned from playing four square - suddenly had to do a dance unit in gym starting in grade four. It was straight out of nowhere - we started a rumour that the principal had h1n1 because she went to Mexico over the Christmas break or something - the office secretary got one of those prickly brushes out of my hair, I was going to thank her as I went to leave the office but she got all bitchy at me and said "aren't you going to thank me?" - one time I impulsively said ew to some third grader that was walking by and a teacher saw it and she got really angry at me and said that she didn't understand why I said it to that kid, but she'd get why I'd say it to someone else?? Like she was saying that the other kid who I did not say ew to was worthy of being said ew to. The kid i said it to was named Nicholas and i don't even think he notices because the teacher made me apologize at lunch time and i was crying my eyes out because I felt bad and the kid seemed so disturbed. This happened in grade 6 - our gym teacher from grade primary to grade 3 taught gym from a rollie chair and APPARENTLY, in other schools did the same thing and ate unhealthy snacks in her office?? - same teacher slammed a door on my head by accident and laughed about it while I was crying - music teacher from grade primary to four made us listen to whale sounds occasionally - music teacher from grade 5 to six gave up on doing actual music lessons and just showed us movies about composers - this kid, Joey, stuck his hands down his pants in the middle of class. He's still a freak to this day - SAME KID PLAYED THIS PRETEND GAME CALLED KILLER. He went around and pretended to kill pretend zombies and people - same kid said that it would be a good thing if the school blew up with all the teachers inside it - all the graduating grade 6's got cool graduating ceremonies and plays but MY grade got this shitty slideshow that half the class started crying in - starting in grade 5 they had this "girls day" and "boys day" thing. On those days that gender did activities. This happened once a year. On girls day we did cross country skiing and I hit my head and cried and they got mad at me when i wouldn't do it anymore and they wouldn't help me find better skis. Idk what they did on boys day coz I wasn't friends with any boys at the time - THEY GOT SUPER MAD IF YOU DIDNT FINISH YOUR LUNCH. Like I always wanted to bring lunchables, but I didn't like the meat so I didn't eat it. And when I went to go throw away the plastic with the meat in it, the lunch supervisor lady got super mad at me??? - we were really big fans of our custodian Bob. So big of fans that at lunch time for FUN, we would wash out the milk cartons - they would take away your toys if you brought them out at recess. I once brought a rubber duck and the supervisor took it away from me?? Looking back I don't see any point to this - in like grade 5 someone put one of joey's shoes in the garbage can - In grade 6 the girls started a rumour that alpacas lived in the school's woods. It was more of a inside joke rumour thing that wasn't a joke - girls frequently got into fights and I was always the middle man that had to tell each group what the other was saying about them - we started a game called Hamsters. It was literally just tag. But I think it originally started as the girls were the hamsters and the few boys who wanted to play with us were cats - THESE TWO KIDS IN GRADE 5 MADE OUT ON THE SOCCER FIELD. THE DUDE WAS IN GRADE FOUR THE GIRL WAS IN GRADE THREE. I THINK. WE WERE TOO YOUNG FOR THAT ANYWAY - This girl said she hated me in grade 4 because I took the last cookie. That same girl became obsessed with Eminem in grade 6. And then in grade 8 she drew swastikas all over her binder to be Edgy. That's not elementary school but it's worth noting how weird this kid was - we had this thing at the end of each month called Friday Fun and Friday Focus. If you were a good kid you got Friday Fun and if you were a bad kid you got Friday Focus. The only time I got in Friday Focus was in grade four and I think that's because Mr. Richards hated me because I could never remember his name and that I could never finish my math work because I always SUCKED at it - the teachers would not move me to the front of the class when I asked because I could not see the board because of my shifty eyesight - not weird or anything but every now and again we would have presentations from this puppet theatre place and it was really cool - my grade was really fucking bad?? And it only was Ethan and Blake were fucking jerks that causes shit. Ethan to this day is still a shithead - in grade four we got emails. Weeks later those emails got taken away because either Maddison was cyber bullying Presley or Presley was cyber bullying Maddison. Or maybe both I don't know - there was a rumour in grade 5 that this girl Salam was smoking - if you've been following me for a long time you might remember my old friend Joelle? She was the coolest girl in my grade and everyone wanted to be her friend and everyone was her friend. Her closest friends were me and Salam, and she told me that she liked me more than she liked Salam in grade 5 - Joelle and I were the only artsy people in our class. I would draw something and people would be like "oh that's cool Cordelia you're a good drawer" but when JOELLE drew something they would go fuckin nuts. Like Joelle was the new age Picasso - in grade primary we had a plush moose that kids got to take home and write in a little notepad about what the kid and the moose did. Like if they played with toys, what they had for supper, that stuff. I never got the moose. -Ethan once stapled his fingers together in grade primary. He did not cry - I almost choked and died on an apple in grade primary because the teacher refused to peel the apple for me. When my mother specifically told the school to peel apples for me - we began to all that teacher a witch after that incident - another grade primary incident is that they had this shoe that you could practice tying your shoes with. They did this while the other kids were watching some zoo movie. When they took me to tie the shoe, they gave me no instructions on how to do it. And I got mad because I didn't know how and they wouldn't show me how. - my first day of school I was colouring and humming because I was content with life and was excited for school. One of the teacher's assistants came over to me and told me that I could not hum and that I had to stop and she was a little too rude to be talking to a 5 year old. The next day I cried because I didn't want to go back, Timothy Goes To School had lied to me, school was not a happy place.

#STORY TIME #like if you read all this #noop nooping #GOD THIS IS... SOMETHING ELSE

[mrsteveecook]

my coworkers keep praising my work bully, emergency bathroom use during interviews, and more

It’s five answers to five questions. Here we go…

1. Can I ask my coworkers to stop praising the person who bullied me?

How reasonable is it to ask my teammates to stop praising another employee from a different department who was a bully? I am okay with speaking about this person in a working manner (“Petra suggested this on the budget issue, so let’s go with it.”), but there are two people on my own team (one is my manager) who will lavish praise on them (“Petra is a genius! She is so great at her job! This company is so much better with her around!”).

I spent a better portion of a year working with Petra, an internal client who behaved terribly to me and others assigned to her project. It was firmly bullying behavior that affected project outcomes, relationships within the project team, and my health. I’ve heard many stories of her doing interpersonal damage around the company, though I can’t deny she is strong in her realm of work.

My teammates and especially my manager know about my experiences, though it doesn’t seem like they have caught on to the extent. I feel somewhat disrespected when they speak so lavishly about Petra. They’ll add a quick acknowledgement after they’ve started because they suddenly remember whom they’re talking to: “I know you wouldn’t say this about her, but she is so amazing!” or “I know you had a bad experience, but I just love how smart she is.” That tells me they remember my experience, but choose to continue saying these things to me. It’s disheartening that her bad behavior is minimized and my experience is dismissed, especially by my manager. They can say it to others, I just don’t want to hear it myself.

Is it reasonable to say “Hey, given my history with Petra, and you may not realize the extent of the damage she did, but can I ask that we keep our talk about her to strictly business?” Or is it asking too much and I should just ignore it? I don’t expect this special consideration for any other of our clients, many of whom are difficult to work with but not bullying. Plus, I’m in the camp we shouldn’t keep jerks around just because they are good at their job.

Yeah, it’s probably asking too much. You really can’t tell people not to say positive things around you about a colleague who still works there; you’ll come across as overly precious or prima donna-ish.

At most, the next time she’s lavishly praised, you could say something like, “My experience with her was truly very different. I’d be glad to share it privately with you sometime if you think it would be useful to hear another perspective.”

But I think you’ve got to mark this down to them having legitimately positive experiences with Petra and not realizing the extent of how harmful your interactions with her were or writing it off to a personality conflict rather than something more serious. That might sound dismissive, but it’s so much more common for two people to just not get along than it is for someone to be truly monstrous that it’s understandable that people might assume that. And they might assume that even if they did hear more details, because people tend to assume there are two sides to every story, or that each person is bringing their own baggage to the situation — especially when they know and like both people involved. You don’t have to like that, but I think looking at it that way might make it feel less personal. (And to be clear, I don’t think it’s great that they’re lavishly praising her around you, but you can only control your side of it.)

2. Emergency bathroom use during interviews

About a year ago, I had a medical procedure done involving my intestines. As a result, I sometimes very suddenly have to use the restroom; waiting even a few minutes could spell disaster. I have been able to accommodate this fine in my current job, as my office is close to a restroom, but I am in the process of applying for new jobs and have had a few interviews, some lasting close to an hour.

So far it has not been an issue during the interviews — I’ve done my best to prevent it by making sure I arrive early enough that I can use the restroom either at the interview location or at a nearby gas station/coffee shop/whatever right before the interview. That said, I’m (reasonably, I think) worried that despite my best efforts, one of these days I’m going to be in the middle of an interview and experience that all-too-familiar rumbling that indicates impending doom.

On one hand, I feel like interviewers might be understanding of a bathroom emergency (we’re all human, after all), but I also feel like it could look bad for me to have to put an interview on hold for 5-10 minutes while I run to the toilet.

Anyone can have a sudden, unanticipated need for a bathroom, even without a medical condition! It might not be as urgent as your need is, but it can be urgent enough to require excusing oneself from a meeting. Because of that, I don’t think you need to worry too much about giving any context for this or warning your interviewer in advance. If the need strikes, you can simply say, “I’m so sorry — I need to very briefly excuse myself to use your restroom.”

That said, if you’ll feel more comfortable, you could say at the start, “I had a recent medical procedure that means I might need to pop out to the bathroom at some point while we’re talking — I’ll speak up if that happens.”

3. Our company won’t let managers suggest sick employees work from home

We have several employees who report to work ill. When I suggest letting ill people work from home, I am told our division head says no. Her exact words were “I’d like to work from home,” which makes no sense. Also, a manager states they spoke to an HR rep and the statement was along the lines of “You are not a doctor and cannot state factually that their illness is causing another worker to become ill and therefore cannot send an employee home.”

What results is other employees become ill, go to the doctor, use their PTO, their workload piles up, and when they return the germ carriers are still repeatedly deep coughing, sneezing, etc., causing relapses. Focusing on one’s work is proving difficult. Would working in our remote site be a legal alternative if one presents as a risk to another’s health and well-being?

Your division head is a bit of a jerk (just because she’d like to work from home but for some reason can’t doesn’t mean that it’s not a viable option for anyone, and she’s really behind the curve on this).

But more importantly, your HR rep is ridiculous. Letting sick people work from home isn’t about factually proving that they are definitely getting others sick; it’s about taking sensible precautions that any sixth grader could understand. Your HR rep sounds horribly rigid and lacking critical thinking skills — which is a really bad combination. Is your whole HR team like this, or is it just this one person? If the latter, try going over her head. (Although, frankly, managers shouldn’t need HR’s permission on this, and they’d be better off just leaving HR out of it.)

To answer your question: Working from a remote site for whatever reason is perfectly legal. The law cares not one bit. The issue is an internal one with your company.

4. My partner’s last-minute work changes are wreaking havoc on my schedule

I work from a home office. My schedule has made it so that my SO can be as flexible as possible for his employer, given sufficient notice; his job involves travel and working from home at irregular intervals. I have a schedule that allows me the space and time to run my business and do elder care for his family and mine.

My SO’s employer (a large firm) has a reputation for being at least somewhat family-friendly, despite the nature of this job he does. My SO’s previous supervisor took family friendly policies seriously. My SO and I never once experienced a conflict under his leadership due to his behavior, and few things cropped up last moment.

The problem is his new supervisor, who has a management style best described as chaotic; everything is conflict-filled, urgent, and last moment and it’s causing interpersonal and scheduling difficulties between my SO and me. I did the best I could to work with this new management style and maintain my policy of never saying “no” to his professional obligations, no matter how they might impact my schedule. However, when I had to reschedule my own professional and personal obligations 10 times in the space of a month in order to support his career, I had a change of heart.

I’ve had as much as I will take of the near constant schedule changes, and my SO’s newly developed short temper, and I’m at a loss as to how to address this with him and his supervisor. How do I discuss this and bring matters about to a peaceful resolution?

You talk to him, and he talks to his manager. You shouldn’t be talking to the manager yourself, since it’s between him and your SO.

The subject line of your email to me was, “How much flexibility is too much to expect from an employee’s family?” But they’re not really expecting anything from you; they deal with him, and they assume he will work out family issues himself (including speaking up if he’s being asked to do things he can’t do).

It sounds like you and he need to sit down and talk and figure out how many last minute changes you’re willing and able to accommodate, and what kind of new boundaries you each need to draw (you with him, and him with his boss). Then he’ll need to have a conversation with his boss where he explains that because of elder care obligations, he can’t accommodate this much schedule chaos. Ideally he’d talk about how he and his former manager made it work, and see if the new manager is open to a similar set-up. But before that can happen, you and he need to hash out how this will work between the two of you.

5. Client wants to make my freelance contract permanent — and I don’t want it

Recently, my long-term freelance contract came to an end. In order to make ends meet, I took up another freelance contract at a much lower rate, thinking I’ll look for something else in the interim. But it actually worked out well. The studio deals with a lot of confidential work that I’m not privy to, so I mostly help out on the overflow. My schedule is light, leaving me with time and energy to work on other contracts, as well as my long-running creative project.

They apparently liked my work, because now they’re offering a permanent position. I considered it initially, as I enjoy the work and the culture, but then I actually saw the offer. This role pays less than my freelance contract (though with benefits and leave), and I will be barred from working on outside projects. I know they don’t have much room in their budget for negotiation. As I’ll be involved in the confidential dealings, my workload will also increase significantly.

I’m definitely not going to accept this position, as it sounds like more stress at less pay. I just don’t know if there’s a way to let them down and go back to the way things were before. They presented it as a huge honor for a freelancer to be offered a permanent role, and I was also excited initially. They specifically asked me if I am dead-set on freelancing at the beginning and I said no, meaning I can’t use that excuse.

I realize I’ve been enjoying a very cushy position, but I do repeatedly hear how much my overflow work helps everyone stay on schedule with the important stuff. And of course, having this kind of steady income as a freelancer is a godsend. Can I still freelance with them without it being awkward? I feel like my friend-with-benefits suddenly wants to get married!

Absolutely, it’s really normal to consider an offer like this, decide it’s not for you, but stay on good terms and continue freelancing for the client. You can say something like, “I really appreciate you making this offer! I’ve run the numbers and realized that it makes more financial sense for me to remain a freelancer, especially because of the bar on outside projects. But I really like working with you, and I’d love to just continue on with my freelance work for you if that still makes sense on your side.”

One thing to make sure you’re factoring in: It’s really normal for the position to pay less than you were earning as a freelancer. That’s normal because as a freelancer, you’re not getting benefits and you’re responsible for all your own payroll taxes. It sounds like there are other reasons this position wouldn’t be right for you, but I did want to flag that this piece of it is normal and expected.

You may also like:

I think the compliments I’m getting are undermining my reputation

my coworkers mercilessly tease me about my drunken holiday party behavior

update: my project leader falls asleep in our meetings

my coworkers keep praising my work bully, emergency bathroom use during interviews, and more was originally published by Alison Green on Ask a Manager.

from Ask a Manager http://bit.ly/2Uot707

[theconservativebrief]

At what point in the completely nightmarish process of online dating does one decide that it’s worth spending money on making that experience slightly less terrible? After the first truly bad date? After the 70th?

A generation ago, things were simpler. You essentially had two options: Meet a fellow human being in your respective flesh sacks, or pay somebody (or a newspaper) to set you up with one. The internet wrought popular paid services like Match.com in 1995, JDate in 1997, and eHarmony in 2000, but it wasn’t until Tinder invented the addictive “swipe” in 2013 that online dating became a true free-for-all.

But a free-for-all doesn’t pay, which is why if you’ve ever spent time on Bumble, OkCupid, Coffee Meets Bagel, or any of the other zillion apps promising to make us feel a little less lonely, you’ve likely seen ads for a mysterious paid version of the very same service. They offer perks like read receipts, the ability to see who’s already swiped right, and a temporary “boost” that automatically puts you at the top of the pile for a certain amount of time. The practice has a long history: OKCupid rolled out its A-List feature as early as 2009, before Tinder and Bumble even existed.

And what the freemium pricing model did for online games is becoming the strategy used by dating apps today. They’re free to use, but the psychology of gaming suggests that the more you use them, the more tempting it is to advance to the next level. When it comes to online dating, however, the reasons that people choose to upgrade to the payment models are far more varied than that of a typical gaming app.

It may seem redundant, particularly when there are already dating apps where you can see who’s liked you that don’t cost a thing (Hinge, for instance). But people are still paying for premium — lots of them. Last fall, Tinder beat out Candy Crush to become the Apple Store’s top-grossing app after unleashing its Tinder Gold service. And app makers claim it’s worth it: In June, Coffee Meets Bagel co-founder Dawoon Kang told Vice that men who pay the $35 per month for the upgraded version have “a 43 percent higher number of connections (mutual likes) than non-payers” and that conversation lengths increase by 12 percent.

Those I talked to who’ve used premium versions of free dating apps didn’t have a singular reason for doing so — their motivations ranged from wanting to expand their location-based potential matches to avoiding the stigma of being discovered by Facebook friends on a kink-friendly app in a conservative town. But the most popular reason seemed to be the desire to see who’s liked them without having to make the commitment of liking them back.

Hannah, a 31-year-old teacher in Chicago, bought Bumble Boost after four years of being single and realizing she wanted to get serious about marriage and family. She says she doesn’t interact with a lot of men on the job (“other than my first graders, their dads, and our parish priest — none of whom I’m interested in dating”), and all of her friends are couples. A weeklong trial of Bumble Boost cost her about $10, which led to a monthlong package (about $25) and then a three-month-long package (about $50).

What you get when you pay for free dating apps

Bumble Boost, $24.99/month

See everyone who’s right-swiped you

Extend matches by 24 hours

Rematch with expired connections

Tinder Plus, $9.99/month for users under 30; $19.99/month for 30+

Unlimited likes

Rewind last swipe (if you swipe by accident)

5 Super Likes per day

1 Boost each day (puts you on the top of the pile)

Passport to swipe around the world

Tinder Gold, $4.99/month added to the cost of Tinder Plus

Everything that Tinder Plus offers, plus the ability to see who’s liked you

Feeld Majestic, $15.99/month

See who’s liked you

Hide profile from Facebook friends

See when others were last seen on the app

Grindr Xtra, $11.99/month

OKCupid A-list, $9.99/month

Ad-free

See who likes you first

More search and filter options

See who’s read your messages

For Hannah, the biggest benefit was seeing who liked her before making the commitment to like them back. “[It’s] been helpful in seeing who’s left in the dating pool, adjusting my expectations, and deciding what ‘trade-offs’ I’m willing to make,” she explains. It also helped her get out of her comfort zone. “I definitely decided to match or message with some men I would’ve left-swiped on if I hadn’t known they were interested in me. I think it’s such a fine line — being open to different types of men and giving ‘pink flags’ in profiles the benefit of the doubt, while still listening to your gut and not wasting your time going out with men you’ll never be interested in or are straight-up jerks.”

That curiosity is the same reason Wynter, a 33-year-old engineer in Brooklyn, made the leap to Boost. “I recently broke up with someone and was out of the loop with swiping,” she explains. “A few days went by after downloading the app and I wasn’t getting any matches. I had friends reviewing my photos and got the thumbs-up on quality. I think I’m an attractive person and couldn’t understand the issue — was the app broken or what? I figured if I could see the matches, I could at least see who was swiping on me. Even if I wasn’t attracted to that person, it gave me some validation that I wasn’t a monster.”

However, paying for Bumble didn’t improve her actual experience on the app. In three weeks of using it, she’s gone on one date but said she probably would have swiped right on the person anyway. “Sure, I’m able to reach out to more people because I can connect to them, but the response rate is the same. A small percent of the people I match with respond or move past a few back and forth messages.”

That wasn’t an issue for Molly, a 25-year-old producer in Leeds, England, who paid for Tinder Gold despite never planning on actually meeting anyone from the app. “Arguably getting Tinder Gold was basically just a vanity purchase to reassure myself that people would be interested in me if I started using it more seriously,” she says. The ego boost worked, however: “Seeing who has liked you is kind of wild; it’s completely overwhelming but it was very, very interesting.”

For 23-year-old writer Dylan, the draw of Grindr Xtra was expanding the radius of potential matches. In New York City, where he’s based, the free version of the location-based app only showed him profiles within a couple of blocks. “In my opinion, if you live in a big, densely populated city, [the upgrade] makes a big difference. Though convenience is great, I don’t want to limit my dating or hookup prospects to just a couple blocks from my apartment. I would hate to miss out on meeting someone exciting just because they live six blocks away.”

In South Carolina, 36-year-old legal professional Jessica (not her real name) paid for the premium kink-friendly app Feeld because that was the only way her profile could remain hidden from Facebook friends. Due to her field of work and the fact that she lives in a small town in a conservative state, she didn’t want her precise sexual desires (profiles on Feeld specifically ask users to list them) to be public knowledge.

She says having the freedom to use an app without fear of being exposed introduced her to people she wouldn’t have met if she hadn’t known that they were into her first. “I hooked up with two guys separately that were younger than my age range, so I would not have seen them if I had not paid for the app and saw that they liked me first,” she says. “They were fun times.”

She also discovered a few surprises about the people in her town. “Lots of guys that I would not think were into kink were on the app,” she adds. “Just goes to show you do not know what goes on in other people’s bedrooms and not to judge a book by its cover. … It has made me more open and exploratory in my own sex life.”

Physical validation, sexual discoveries, and newfound open-mindedness: They’re the sorts of intangible objects that money isn’t supposed to be able to buy. But for most of the premium users I emailed, that’s what they found — all for under $25 a month.

But how much more likely are you to find an actual, IRL match? According to Eli J. Finkel, a psychology professor at Northwestern who has conducted comprehensive studies on the subject, the real genius of online dating isn’t sophisticated algorithms that promise to find your soulmate, like the ones offered by Match or eHarmony. Nor is it the ability to browse the profiles of other users for a glimpse into their actual personality (studies show it’s pretty much useless).

It’s much more simple than that: Online dating expands the pool of potential partners. In a 2015 New York Times op-ed, he wrote, “With Tinder, online dating is capitalizing on its strength — an expanded dating pool — and then accelerating the process of actually meeting someone.” So the greatest benefit of paying for an already free app might be services like Grindr’s location expander and Tinder’s unlimited swipes.

Of course, even when you’re paying for it to be somewhat less soul-crushing, dating is still dating. Unfortunately, that virtual $10 doesn’t unlock the gateway to the magical closet where your perfect match has been hiding all along, or even the gateway to someone who’s willing to meet up. “I’ve met some nice guys and met some duds. There are plenty of people that I talk to that I end up not meeting, either because it fizzles out or distance or whatever,” says Jessica.

“The actual interactions weren’t really any different than using the free version or any other dating apps,” adds Hannah.

Lorenzo, a 38-year-old customer service manager in San Diego, downloaded the paid versions of Tinder and OKCupid because he wasn’t looking for the kind of long-term relationships promised by sites like eHarmony. He said that at first he was able to schedule a date each week, but that the constant stream of matches started to turn into more of a trickle. “As far as OKCupid goes, I’m not sure it’s worth the pay,” he says. “I hardly get any likes, and most women don’t respond unless you message them.”

It also doesn’t prevent users from being, well, predictable human-being-on-a-dating-app levels of shady. Wynter says she’s skeptical of whether paying for premium is worth the cost because “I know a lot of men who swipe right on everyone they find even mildly attractive and filter later. It’s especially frustrating on Bumble because then I don’t feel I should put a lot of effort into my initial message because the match doesn’t guarantee a response.”

That’s the thing about paying for a free dating app: It might not provide the variables to the mysterious formula that equals “love” (or “great sex” or at the very least “a mildly pleasant evening”), but it’ll probably give you some interesting insights about the nature of humanity or a pretty solid confidence boost. And for many, that’s reason enough.

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Original Source -> Dating apps like Tinder and Bumble are free. But people say paying for them is worth the money.

via The Conservative Brief

#IFTTT #The Conservative Brief